


Lights (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

by Seoltang0418



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anger, Arkham Asylum, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Fights, GCPD, Gotham, Graphic Description, Killing, Madness, POV Second Person, Reader-Interactive, Revenge, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2019-10-20 23:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17631638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seoltang0418/pseuds/Seoltang0418
Summary: It's the day when Jerome is making his comeback by taking out all the lights in Gotham. It's also the day when you get sick to your stomach by your stepdad's actions and finally act out on your instincts.Jerome was your idol. Coming from a dysfunctional family it was no surprise that sooner or later you would grow into a sociopath and maybe... even pick someone's interest into you.





	1. Chapter 1

You were eating quietly your dinner at the table in the kitchen, together with your mother and father. Well, your step father, Jake-something, but just a small glance at the man at the end of the table and that was enough to push you off the edge of throwing a fit. Maybe because it was so obvious that he only stayed with your mother just to drink her money away – there was no night when Jake wouldn’t come home stinking like a whole liquor bar and picking on you both. Your wrist carried faintly visible scars from your anger, and when you didn’t know how to deal with the large amount of it, you just went into your bathroom and used the razorblade to inflict small wounds. You winced at first, but seeing the blood run down your skin and the sink was enough to forget the light stinging. There were times when the cuts took longer than 3 to 4 days to close and cicatrize at last, and when it was like that you only looked at the clotted red blood, the feeling of bittersweet comfort engulfing you.

You suppressed your sigh at the thick atmosphere, your eyes glancing over at your mother. Her eyes were buried into her plate, a small scar barely covered by the hair, blue and green bruises adorning her throat. Your blood boiled again as you remembered that dreadful night that started this nightmare for your mother. Ever since that night you despised Jake and wished nothing more than his slow and painful death. You knew your mom was at the end of her strength judging only by her tired look. You felt sorry for her, wanted so much to comfort her but you couldn’t... Jake had made his goal since that night to destroy your mother-daughter bond.

Your eyes switched to Jake. Jake, who was eating like a pig, not looking at you both but still managing to instill fear. His shirt was covered in pasta and beer stains, black hair greasy, and yet having another 3 cans of beer in front of him. The TV installed in the kitchen was a background noise, no one really listening to the news. They were the same as always, some random killings, GCPD stating god knew what and other stuff that probably would be forgotten by the time the citizens went to their bed. And then a loud crash of plates and metal cans colliding with the tile floor of the kitchen.

”It sucked,” Jake deadpanned. ”Probably the worst dinner I ever had in all this time. You’re trying to poison me, aren’t ya?”

Your hands curled under the table into fists, your heartbeat slightly quickening, your teeth biting on the inside of your cheek to keep silent.

”Go upstairs, honey,” your mother spoke on a resigned voice. ”It will be alright...”

”You think so, babygirl?” Jake said, mocking her weak attempt of assuring her little girl that she’s gonna be fine.

You reluctantly got up and exited the kitchen, not two steps out and already hearing curse words thrown at her. But despite the urge of running back and protecting her, you chose to be a good girl yet again.

”I thought she told you to go into your fucking room,” Jake’s rough voice spoke behind you, causing you to jump slightly. His large hand grabbed a fistful of your blouse, catching some stray strands of your hair as well, and dragged you up the stairs like a dog, throwing you into your room and locking from the outside the door. ”No more unnecessary interruptions from you, nosey kid.”

On impulse, you rushed to the door and slammed hard your palms against the surface, yelling in frustration. All you got back though were mocking laughs and muffled cries. You pressed your ear to the hard wood, trying to listen but now they were quiet. Too quiet for your liking. Your imaginary friends began to argue in your head too. And all of them were saying the same thing: kill him, kill Jake. Lately those criminal thoughts that crossed your mind whenever you heard them argue were getting stronger and stronger, sometimes so hard to bear and other times sneaking into your dreams, showing you a lot of ways to take your anger out on Jake. One time you even awoke right by the bedside where Jake usually slept, holding the sharpest knife you owned in the house.

Jake raised his voice at your mother, who probably was cowering in fear, getting away as much as she could from him but he wouldn’t have it. She was crying and needed help, but you never had the courage to stand up and protect her, always choosing to be the way-too-aware coward and leaving her alone with the drunk bastard. You heard shouts, then muffled voices – surely those were threats - , and then shouts again, the loud noises passing through the walls and climbing up the stairs straight to your room, only amplifying when they reached your pressed ear to the door.

You glared so hard, your eyebrows hurting from the intense frowning. You grabbed the handle and pushed it down as hard as you could. Nothing happened. The door was locked good. The screamings got louder, meaning Jake probably pushed her into the living room. _Think fast_ , you thought to yourself as you looked around for something that might be of use to break the door. And that was when you heard it: a piercing shriek and the glass table that generously occupied half the living room’s space shatter.

”No... No, he did not...” you mumbled, trying to stay composed.

”Serves you right, filthy bitch!” your step dad slurred amused. ”Get up now if you can!”

Your eyes were pinned onto the door handle. Your fists were closing and opening, bones cracking loudly in the thick silence that fell. Your vision got clouded by the tears but you refused to let them spill, your body slowly turning away. With small steps you headed to the desk. Papers and books and pencils were in their place neatly. Except the scissors – the scissors, bought around two days ago, unused, therefore it was still pretty sharp. The tip sparkled innocently in the artificial light of your desk lamp, giving it a great amount of temptation. Your hand grabbed it tightly. God, how right it felt.

But you let it go as if it burned you as soon as you heard footsteps climbing up the stairs to your room. _Think fast_ , you told yourself again and grabbed the scissors, hiding your new found weapon behind your back before Jake could unlock the door.

”How are you, baby?” Jake said in that drunk voice of his, reeking of booze from a mile away.

”Stay away from me, you goddamn bastard,” you warned in a surprisingly unwavering voice, fingers latched securely onto the black rubber handle of the scissors.

”But I just wanna comfort you after what you might have heard.”

Jake put one foot in front of the other, beginning to walk towards you and pulling the door behind his back. He wore a shit-eating grin on his face, assuming it was easy to fool a stupid girl as he had always thought of you. But you were faster than him, pouncing upon Jake and pushing him out your room and straight down the stairs. He rolled down to the foot of the staircase, at first thinking that the fall actually killed him. But it only knocked around a little his last braincells and now Jake stood up on wobbly feet, beyond pissed. His blood ran down from the temple and his nostrils.

You carefully made your way down, however your eyes were cold as ice and your fingers never felt so good wrapped tight around the weapon.

”Is that your weapon!?” Jake laughed out loud, mocking your choice of object. ”You must be joking!”

”Do I look like a fucking joke to you?”

”Aw, mommy’s little girl has grown balls now, hmm. Learn your damn place kid or,”  he trailed off, eyes glistening with a mix of drunkenness and madness.  ”Or you might end up just like your beloved mommy.”

You followed his gaze towards the inert body, lying on the ground, shards from the glass table covering the parquet and sparkling in your mom’s blood. Blind fury filled you and you glared daggers in Jake’s way.

“Won’t you go mourn your mommy, little Y/N?” he mocked you again, making use of the love you carried for your mother up to this point.

”I’ll have enough time after I’ll be done with you, son of a bitch,” you mumbled on a deep tone, licking your lips and holding the scissors up in the air. “Just don’t give me a hard time and die quickly.”

“Is this what your mother would have wanted you to become?”

“You leave my mother out of this.”

“Or what? Gonna give me a new haircut?”

It was getting harder to keep yourself sane, your palm becoming sweaty from gripping too tight. The voices in your head were screaming at you to just launch at him and stab Jake, burying the blades in his chest, then his neck and so much more.

“You’re just a coward, Y/N. Just a coward,” he mused, approaching you and wanting to grab a hold of your hand.

That was the moment when your instincts took over and your hand moved fast, the sharp blade biting at his skin. Jake pulled back a few steps, taken aback and holding his injured hand. You faintly heard him yelling at you in anger – “you fucking bitch!”- but you were more preoccupied by the drops of red blood on the glossy metal.

“Well, this is refreshing. It feels like my whole anger is finally let out,” you spoke on a calm voice, a smile blooming on your lips. You took small steps towards a now backing Jake.

“You’re crazy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Jake backed some more in the way where the ashtray was placed, thinking it could be of use to knock you out if he hit you with the ashtray, but what he forgot was the extension cord that always stuck out from beneath the bookcase. He tripped, falling down and you jumped immediately, grabbing hard his hair, pulling at the roots. Jake writhed underneath you, trying hard to break free.

“Fucking stay still,” you said in a steady voice, jerking his head by the hair left and right before smacking him hard against the floor. “I will make you pay for the shit you’ve done to her.”

Your delicate hand came to rest against his jugular, bit by bit applying pressure. The other hand opened the blades and laid prepared into your palm. Although Jake’s air was cut off and jerked frantically around, he still tried to reach out for the scissors… only to get the pointy edge of one of the blades right into his palm. His screams strengthened your resolution to take his life.

“Beg for your life. Humor me, you piece of trash.”

“You wish… crazy bitch…” Jake choked, mastering a faint twisted smirk up at you.

You looked down at him with expressionless eyes. You pulled your hand away, watching him gulp the air into his lungs for a few seconds.

“I’ll kill you too. And I’ll bury you – no, I will pour gasoline on you and burn this fucking place down with you in it!” Jake yelled at you.

“I will consider this as your last will and I shall take care of fulfilling it,”you grinned wickedly.

You turned from him and stabbed his leg, dragging the blade into his flesh and cutting whatever vein was in the way. “This way you won’t get away too soon. I’ll be right back.”

You left him cursing loud on the ground as you went to get from the closet the gasoline can you kept spare for times when your car would need to be fueled. Grabbing the lighter from the shelf you returned to Jake.

“Wh-what are you – “

Jake didn’t finish his sentence as you opened the can and emptied it on the man. Loud shrieks resonated as gasoline seeped into his wounds. You bit your lip, excited.

“Burn in hell, Jake.”

You were about to throw the lighter in his way and watch a campfire unravel right in your living room when suddenly the loud TV that was still on in the kitchen sent into the rooms the echoes of a madman’s voice.

“Testing… Testing… Hello, Gotham! Missed me? As you know, I died, but I also come back. Yes! Your beloved Jerome is back. So…”

You paused and listened to his voice. You couldn’t control the smirk that grew on your face, since Jerome Valeska was your role model. You admired his doings and so you listened attentively his instructions. 

“Tonight Gotham… In the darkness there are no rules." The sound of a wick being lit. "So, tonight Gotham, do what you want. Kill who you want. And when morning comes… you too, shall be reborn.”

Then his insane laugh. The laugh you came to love whenever you got a chance to hear and that rang something inside you. 

“Heard that, Jakey? There are – “ , the lights went out as the explosion from the power plant produced and you grinned psychotic. “There are no rules in the dark.”

Jake gulped. The light click from the lighter was heard and a small flame rose up. Soon enough Jake was engulfed in flames, you away from his burning body and laughing like a maniac.

You enjoyed your revenge to the fullest as you watched the fire consume your step father.

It felt like, indeed, you were reborn.      


	2. Chapter 2

You watched Jake’s body burn unbothered. The screams had been a delight for you to hear, watching his flesh slowly detach from his bones and filling the room with the smell of burned out flesh. Then it followed his bones. They cracked loudly, growing fragile and breaking, the mandible falling open and skull breaking off from the cervical vertebrae, rolling around a little until it came to a stop near your foot. All of Jake’s bones blackened from the smoke and eventually they turned into ash.

Your foot lightly placed onto the skull and rolled it back and forth, your face bearing the most chill look. You played with the bone for a little longer before your eyes lifted to see the small amount of grey ash.

“Hm, I think I should go get my dustpan,” you said to yourself on a bored tone, as if you didn’t just set a man on fire a few minutes ago.

You turned your body and headed towards the kitchen, passing by your mom’s corpse. Your gaze lingered more on her face than everything else. Despite her eyes having no spark of life in them anymore, it seemed to you she was finally at peace. The blood started to coagulate around the corner of her lightly open mouth and ear, hair stuck and covering half on her face. Her skin started to grow purple. Shards from the glass table were scattered mostly where your mother laid, but some were in your way too.

You sighed, continuing on your way to the kitchen to get the dustpan. It occurred to you that you could breathe at last. You were finally free and relaxed. A smile spread on your lips as you got the dustpan and broom and walked back. Your footsteps barely made any sound on the floor. You were so lost into your little world that you didn’t even feel when you stepped onto some shards, leaving some faint bloody footprints behind.            

You cleaned up, throwing the dirt in the trash bin, after this getting your shovel from the closet to dig your mother’s grave somewhere in the backyard. It was pitch black, the only light or noise coming from the ones who followed Jerome’s instructions.

”It should be deep enough... ”, you concluded after a good 40 minutes of digging.

You jumped out the hole and went to get the body. You could’ve incinerated it but you thought your mom deserved at least this sort of burial. Sweat was dripping on your face and you wiped it off with the back of your hand. You stared a little longer at her, then finally worked up the courage to kneel in front of her and close the eyelids. You wrapped her dead, purple arm over your shoulders and dragged her to the grave.

You dumped the body in the pit and grabbed the shovel again, slowly throwing the soil on her. Your eyes were as dry as a desert, face unexpressive at all.

”Sorry mom, wish I could have done better for you,” you mumbled as you tapped the ground, giving it a finishing touch.

Your clothes were stained by both her blood and the still fresh one of Jake. Throwing a look in the distance where fire and anarchy were rising up into the dark night sky of Gotham, something was calling for you to join the madness. You propped yourself on the shovel’s handgrip and spaced out for a little while.

”Maybe I should go check it out as well,” came your voice out of nowhere, not even you processing the words when they left your mouth.

You turned your back to your mother’s grave and dragged yourself back inside the house, humming a random song that came to mind, the rusty iron of the shovel creating a rough scratching noise on the ground. Once inside you threw the object away and went to get back your bloody scissors from where you had left them forgotten.

The last thing to get was your jacket. It wasn’t cold and it was doing a very poor job at hiding the stained clothes and skin, but you felt the need to wear it. You twirled the scissors between your fingers, humming again a random tune – a darker tune – that made its way into your head and off you were to the only place that seemed to have power: the amusement park. Your gut told you he might be there... and your gut was almost never wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

You were walking in the direction of the amusement park almost in a trance. It was like an invisible string was wrapped around your neck, its ghostly power over your body resembling a black silk leash that was pulling you to the chaos’ core. You were so calm, so unbothered; you welcomed that leash with a weird feeling of acceptance, twirling your fingers over the so-supposed present rope that should have been tied tight around a medium large ring and someone to pull you around to not get lost – just like a puppy. Your mind fooled you for a second into turning that imaginary rope to reality, making a big smile spread upon your lips. Your fingers gently moved to your throat and wrapped around the area where your carotid arteries were and lightly pressed. You hummed, closing your eyes for a little bit as the slight dig of your nails in your skin made your body experience a delicious thrill. The imaginary blood red satin collar was nowhere to be felt and you let out a small sigh of disappointment.

You opened your eyes again and the anarchy unveiled before them. Jerome’s followers were rushing past you, apparently not taking notice of your presence, loud as hell, almost able to raise the dead from their peaceful slumber. Some were on the streets, others on the buildings and some in the very home of the innocent people. They were throwing outside the windows furniture, laughing and watching how they collided with the pavement and broke into pieces, chips of woods flying everywhere. Others drove stolen cars, zigzagging or drifting on the streets or crushing them into poles. And there were the ones who stuck with being the classic type of murderers: simply beating and killing the ones who tried to run from this madness. The blood painted the ground – some fresh, creating puddles of it; other splotches were of dried blood.  

You watched all this with impassive eyes, shrugging your shoulders. You could care less of these so supposed innocent people – after all, these ”innocents” were responsible for how you all turned into madmen.

”They should be the ones locked up, not us...” you murmured.

You carried on your way, passing by some dumpsters that were burning. Your eyes stung a little because of the acrid smoke that rose up in the sky. The sickening smell of scorched garbage engulfed the street you were on and for a moment it almost brought your dinner back. You swallowed big and quickened your pace, passing past those dumpsters faster. In that very moment a man crossed your way, stumbling over the bumper of a car crushed into the pole.

He was tall, in his early 30s, handsome even with his hair disheveled and face bathed in sweat. His clothes were ripped in random places, thin lines of blood running down from minor injuries. Something of him seemed familiar to you. So familiar...

The man lifted his terrified eyes to take a look at the person he had the misfortune of falling in front. When he noticed you looked quite innocent and peaceful than most of the ones who roamed the entire Gotham, he began to beg. He did not remember you at first.

”You got to help me! Please!” he yelled out at you. All he got back was a blank stare.

The man raised up to his shaking legs and placed his large hands on your shoulders. His eyes bore into your skull as if trying to knock some sense into the stupid you who was blankly staring at him. He could hear the sounds of disaster happening echoing all over the place. A random explosion at a far away gas station occured, making him jump slightly.

”Why should I help you?” came your calm, soft voice. As much the tone used was so innocent, just as much the words were bitter and filled with hatred.     

His face took a surprised look. He clearly did not expect this, but he also refused to believe such a girl like you could be one of them. You sighed bored, placing your hand on his to shove him aside from you. Your hand was cold as ice, the scissors held into that said hand sending a shudder on the man’s spine at the sight of them dipped in blood.  

 ”I have absolutely no reason to help you get away... Mickey Reed.”

”How– Who are you and how do you know my name!?” Mickey exclaimed loudly, all color running from his cheeks, leaving him as white as paper.

”My 13th birthday,”  came out your steady voice again.

Mickey looked so damn confused, for a moment even frowning his eyebrows and trying his best to remember if he had ever something to do with a girl on her 13th birthday. But he gave up pretty soon though on searching in his history of being a worm his whole life.

”I don’t– ”

”Try harder, you pedophile,” you spat with venom in his way, some of it actually reaching his face and slowly dripping down his glistening skin. Your eyes took on a darker shade, rage making its way into them and nasty memories - that were safely locked in a corner in the back of your head – coming back into your brain. You watched Mickey wipe with a shaking hand the spit. _Not so tough now, huh_ , you thought.

”But I really don’t know what you mean by that!” he yelled, trying to make you back away if he used that tone. To his dismay, you stood your ground firmer.

”Recall a young girl on her birthday, not even a whole year after mom and sweet Jakey were officially married. And recall a young man who always played with this girl. Lured her into a game. Stripped her. And fucked her.”

Your hand was gripping hard the scissors’ handle again. Your body trembled with adrenaline and the urge to punish him; Mickey Reed’s body was bathed by now in cold sweat as the memory suddenly hit him.

”Y/N...” he murmured.

”Hello, Mickey,” you smiled wickedly. ”So, tell me, was I good when I was a child?”

You took a step forward – Mickey, one step behind. Your smile widened while his pupils dilated more and more, his legs about to give out and ready to trip over empty air. He couldn’t and refused to answer your question.

”Who got that tongue of yours which so wonderfully licked me clean at that time? Another underage girl or some random whore?”

”Y/N, please...”

”Funny, I remember I was the one who begged and only got your fingers shoved deep down my throat while that sad excuse of an erection rubbed against my clit,” you spoke on the same venomous tone, blood beginning to seep from your nails and trickling down the scissors’ blade.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed  the thick knot in his throat. Mickey backed some more and his leg tripped over a rock, causing him to fall down and dislocate his ankle, his tibia ending up twisted in a weird position. The piercing shriek he let out only served for your grin to curl more upwards, his already swelling giving you a satisfactory feeling.

”I guess someone really does exist up there,” you pointed towards the sky with that sly grin of yours.

Because he was unable to run away anymore, you didn’t hurry to finish him off just yet. You were like a predatory animal playing with its prey, enjoying the horror displayed on Mickey’s handsome face. That birthday memory returned and now you were reliving it. How he lured you into your room and discreetly locked the door, at first playing with you some child’s game then slowly his fingers threading into your hair, caressing it. _So soft_ ,  you remember he had said that time. Then fingers slowly descending to your nape and lips enclosing around your ear. That was the moment when you wanted to scream for your mother but Mickey had been faster and covered your mouth. You needed no one to tell you he did it by himself. No. Jake had planned the rape and Mickey, his good pal Mikey Reed, had agreed.

”It’s still a mistery to me how you avoided jail for having sex with a minor, you sick bastard,” you spoke, this way cutting off the nasty memory from displaying from beginning to the end.

”You have to trust me! I swear he made me do it!” he yelled in pain, clutching onto his sprained ankle. ”I... I was in desperate need for money and he... He promised me to help me with my debts...” he breathed out slow, getting dizzy from the pain that was coursing through his whole body.

You tapped the scissors’ sharp tip against your cheek thoughtfully while still circling around him. When you came to a stop and knelt down very close to his face, Mickey jerked (or tried to) away. You grabbed his mandible, holding it in a tight grasp and spun the weapon around your index finger.

”You know, you used to smile a lot at my birthday. Why aren’t you smiling now?”

Mickey was shaking so badly the moment you forcefully parted his lips and stuck in one of the blades, his shaking easily passing as if he was having a nasty convulsion.

”Just relax, Mickey, it will just hurt as bad as when you chose to ruin my childhood. Now be a good boy and smile for Y/N,” you trailed off with a sick smile of your own, slitting his face into a grin.

But you weren’t satisfied with just that and it felt too good playing with the scissors inside his mouth. And so you kept playing... and playing... and playing more, feeding with his squirms and screams of pain.  Some random psychos stopped by and admired you as you worked on the body. Some were encouraging you, some whistling from the other side of sidewalk... and everyone cheered loudly when you stood up, Mickey’s blood slowly trickling down your cheek and neck – his body was torn to pieces, holes and deep cuts inflicted in it and his face carried disturbing cuts.

”Now back on the road,” you brushed your knees from dust and continued your way, a little more to walk and finally arriving to the amusement park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter too  
> I'm waiting for your thoughts on this one in the comments :)


	4. Chapter 4

”At last,” you said to yourself as you finally arrived to what looked like a whole circus just for psychos.

You walked around staring at all the rides that served now as something horrifying for the ones who rode them. Their fear was written on their face, their screams and begging fueled their oppressors’ desire to make them suffer. Sufferance for pure sheer joy. And strangely again, you were finding delight in watching all this madness. Being a part of it never seemed so entertaining and nothing has ever made you feel more alive than this very moment.

Wandering around some more your eyes scanned the rides, carving into your mind the terror, the blood, this whole mess that embodied anarchy itself. You loved this new world. This is where you felt you belonged. You passed by the classic game of throwing darts to win a plushie – you couldn’t stop the amused smile that formed on your lips as the girl winced at the dart getting stuck into her left shoulder. To your right was a pendulum type of ride, swinging people up into the sky side to side. The fun part was that they had no safety belts to protect them... and when it reached the top and everyone was hanging upside down, whoever didn’t hold tight onto the handgrips splashed the ground with his blood and brains. However, nobody was strong enough to actually maintain their grip and sooner or later everyone dropped like rain. That was indeed the fun part, especially that you got to see some falling and creating a dark pool of blood and dead bodies.

”I think this would’ve served Jakey a cute punishment,” you chuckled. Yet, you continued on your way, passing by other rides, however not as interesting as the pendulum ride.

The atmosphere was filled with screams and laughter and it sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. A hand ran through your hair, moving it away and showing the stains of blood on your skin. You wetted your lips and closed your eyes. From a distant memory back in your childhood, when you were 5 years old, an enchanting and dark melody surfaced: a melody that you heard when your mother took you to the circus. Violins, trumpets and other instruments that their name never crossed your mind resonated into your skull now. With arms spread wide like wings, you moved your feet around in a sort of dance, a crazy grin plastered on your mouth. You quietly hummed to yourself the very song that sounded louder and louder into your head; after all, no one really cared about a girl dressed in a white T-shirt with big splotches of dark red blood on it that danced on the sound of nothing.

Suddenly something pulled you back from your daydreaming and little waltz.

”Come on, Bruce, just take a look around. Witness Gotham at its finest. This is how it should be,” a chuckle followed after the sentences were spoken.

You recognized that voice, that laugh... it belonged to the only one who mattered to you at the moment. Your savior, Jerome Valeska. The one who had snuck inside your brain and heart and cut the ropes which held you captive all this damn time. Your smile widened instantly and followed the sound of his rough voice.

 

”You won’t get away with this,” Bruce argued with Jerome.

”Boy, you’re no fun,” Jerome deadpanned. ”Learn to have some fun, will ya? Don’t lie to me by saying you never wished to make someone pay.”

Bruce kept quiet, being pulled around by Jerome’s arm firmly placed over his shoulders. Jerome’s stitched face bore an expression of pure insanity, contrasting with the determined look on Bruce’s face. Jerome grew tired of his straight face; it started to piss him off quite bad.

”Let’s put a smile on that smile-less face of yours, Brucey,” the redhead snickered. ”And I’ll tell you more about my ingenious plan.”

Without much protest from the kid, Jerome’s followers pushed him into a makeup zone, painting Bruce’s face into one of a depressed young clown. But someone was not satisfied yet with the look... not until a large frown was drawn in blood on the boy’s lips, who barely contained his fury by now.

”See? This is more like it, my friend. Now let’s take a walk,” Jerome trailed off, playing with his pocket knife in the air.

Unbeknown to you, Jerome has already sensed someone was watching him and this only thrilled him more. Were you a secret admirer? Or perhaps someone brave enough to adventure in this madhouse only to take him down? But you’d die as soon as you tried to have a shot at him. Jerome only chuckled at these thoughts, amusing himself with them.

Jerome walked by Bruce’s side, talking quietly, making it unable for you to follow the conversation. Although you somehow found your courage disappear the moment you laid eyes on him, you were determined to try say hi to Jerome (and maybe not embarrass yourself). And so you quietly followed them to another game, this time trying to sink the man into the pool full of pirahnas.

”Let’s stop! I love this game!” Jerome exclaimed like a child as he got handed the ball.

”You still won’t get away with all this,” Bruce tried again, distracting him. ”This charade of yours won’t last for too long. The good people in Gotham will come out and take their city back. This city is not just about you psychopaths.”

”You done, kid? I almost fell asleep at your small brave speech,” Jerome yawned, then readied himself to aim for the button which will pull apart the trapdoors and give the man to the hungry fish. ”Now, if you please, shush! I need to concentrate.”

But Bruce shook off the one who held him by the arms, pushing Jerome to the side and making him miss. You almost jumped from your secret hiding place and was ready to have a fit at the boy.

”Hey! You cheated! He pushed me! Did you see that?!” Jerome yelled around angry, half amusing though. And you kind of found this silly act of his quite cute.

However, Jerome turned his frown into a grin and just pushed the button, freeing the trapdoors and piranhas launching at the fresh meat which landed on their territory. Bruce was left astonished... and you were inner clapping for Jerome’s boldness. _Nothing less from him_ , you thought proudly.

You watched with a big smile, curious of what he might do next when someone tapped you on the shoulder. But when you tried to turn around to take a look at who dared to disturb you, you got punched so hard that it sent you stumbling out of the hideout.


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone turned their eyes to see the girl who was pushed into the light. Jerome only stared, wearing that small grin that never left while Bruce’s concern was displayed on his face. The first thing Bruce noticed was your bloodied shirt and the fact you seemed a victim. But man, was he wrong.

”She was spying on you,” the girl that punched you spoke as she grabbed a fistful of your shirt collar. She dragged you much closer to her leader.

”I knew she was there,” Jerome commented. “But chose to let her be.”

“Dragging innocent people into this, how low can you go?!” Bruce yelled at him.

“Do you really want an answer to that, kid?” Jerome motioned to one of his lackeys to approach and bring the large stapler.

You watched as your idol stapled his face back, a tiny shiver crossing up and down your spine, but not finding it repulsive. In fact, you could say your eyes glowed at his braveness to stick those little sharp metal things right in his nerves and muscles.

”Did that hurt?” came Bruce’s voice after Jerome was done securing his face from falling again.

”You got nerve, kid,” a steady, grave voice was heard before the maniac could speak – your voice.  

Everyone turned to look at the girl who was spying and now spoke like she knew shit about this mess. You grinned a little but not for too long as the girl next to you kicked you right behind your knee. You knelt down against your will. No one noticed the dirty, murderous look in your eyes besides Jerome who smirked.

”Leave her alone!” Bruce yelled, still believing you were an innocent victim.

”Oh Bruce, cut us some slack will ya?” Jerome said on that raspy grinning voice of his, waving in the air the big rusty stapler. ”This doll here is no victim.”

The boy followed Jerome’s movements with restrained anger, wanting to tackle him down and stop him once and for all, but Jerome’s helpers wouldn’t let him. He watched in horror as the ginger pulled your arm without much fight to him and held the stapler on your flesh.

”So Brucey here with us asked if it hurt me when I stapled my face. How about you tell him how it feels, gorgeous?” Jerome grinned wide as he clicked it and stapled you.

”No!”

...But you kept an expressionless face on. Soon followed a second, a third, a fourth staple into your arm. Bruce was in shock and enraged; Jerome was actually surprised that you endured the pain without a single grimace, not even making a small sound. Eyes never looking away from Jerome’s mad ones, lips pressed firmly in a straight line and arm not shaking at all.

”Quite the brave one, huh,” Jerome commented.

”I’m used to pain,” came your prompt answer, earning yourself a harsh tug on your hair. And once again Jerome could see that uncontrollable fire sparkling inside your eyes.

Jerome laughed out loud. ”See, Bruce? And you thought a mere girl could actually come and try have a shot at me. Turns out this girl is part of my league, not yours.”

Bruce didn’t say a thing, only watched Jerome approach him with that sick smile. A shudder ran down his spine when Jerome leaned in and whispered in his ear, ”If only you could see the insanity that I saw in her eyes. She’s nothing like these people and you’re about to see this soon enough.”

You stood up and examined your arm, thin rivers of bright red blood running down your skin from the staples deep within your flesh. A warm feeling engulfed you as the pain still coursed and numbed occasionally your arm.

Jerome turned to you and the girl that exposed you; a sick smirk was plastered on his face as he took a few steps forward and pulled out his gun. And in a loud voice Jerome announced, ”Psychopaths and looneys all around this place, may I have your attention? You all know this infamous game, right?” And Jerome pulled out all the bullets except for one.

Everyone cheered as they watched from afar and some approached, creating a circle around you.

”Good, because this doll here with shirt soaked in blood and this... whatever she is, will play it. Let’s see who is lucky to survive!” Jerome laughed, throwing the pistol right between you and the other female. ”Got two seconds to pick it up and entertain us. Let’s see whose brains we will see splashed on the ground tonight!”

You exchanged glares for a moment and she took this opportunity to be faster and grab the gun. You took a few steps behind, seeming resigned, watching in silence how she pressed the barrel of the gun to her temple. Everyone waited in silence. Then it clicked. And nothing. She was still alive and kicking. The whole crowd started cheering loud at her victory, and now it was your turn as the revolved has been tossed in your way.

You picked it up from the ground and examined it. You never held in your hand a gun before and it gave you a thrilling experience. You noticed how good it fitted in your palm, how warm the grip panel was and how your index and middle finger lightly touched the trigger. Somewhere in the distance you heard someone yell to shoot already, but you were too hypnotised by the arm that laid in your hand. Slowly, you took it to your own temple and without a second thought you pressed the trigger.

Everyone held their breath, even Jerome.

But you were still breathing, still standing... and still grinning. And you pulled the trigger again, grin growing wider. And your gut dictated what you should do next: you pointed the gun toward the girl in front of you. You pulled the trigger again and the bullet sprang forward and aimed straight to her left side. Someone in the crowd yelled _Raven,_ so maybe this was her name, but you could give 2 shits about her at the moment.

”Looks like someone is quite daring,” Jerome announced loudly, taking a few steps as an attempt to approach but soon backed when Raven jumped off the ground and launched at you.

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t expected her to come back at you for daring to shoot her. And in all honesty you really wanted her to come at you, just for the fun of it. Your best ally, the scissors, was hidden at your back, between your skin and belt. It hasn’t passed so much since you killed Mickey Reed and yet your fingers craved the feeling of cold iron, the scissors itself felt the thirst for blood grow bigger and bigger and it almost burned the skin of your lower back.

Raven launched at you, tricking you into thinking she was going to hit in your stomach, however she changed the trajectory of her fist in the last second and delivered the punch right into your left cheek. This took you by surprise and sent you stumbling backwards, blood already seeping from the corner of your mouth. The cheers that erupted for Raven were too damn loud and it ticked something in you. You wanted the cheers to be for you, not her. Just like the cheers of the ones on the streets when they witnessed your second murder. Or third?

”Let’s make bets! Raven or this chick who thinks she’s better?” someone else yelled around, earning their attention.

”This is madness...” Bruce mumbled as he stared at all this, now noticing the glint in your eyes that caught Jerome’s interest in you. ”Are you happy with what you created?”

Jerome smirked wickedly as he wrapped his arm around Bruce’s shoulders, pulling him closer. ”Of course I am satisfied, my friend. So, whose side are you? Doll or Raven?”

”I am not picking who should die or live, Jerome. And it’s not right for them to fight like this.”

”Oh, Bruce, you’re so boring, damn it. See, this is what makes life more entertaining: you get to pick sides, have a favorite for crying out loud!”

”No,” Bruce answered in his firm voice, standing his ground, causing Jerome to grimace and click his tongue.

”You are such a boring person, I wonder now why I’ve taken such great interest in you,” Jerome commented, turning his gaze back to the fight, keeping an eye especially on you.

”When you find the answer, let me know.”

Back to the fight, you stood up and wiped the blood from your mouth. Some was in your mouth, you could feel the metallic taste of your own blood. Nonetheless you smiled big, showing your teeth red and then spitting on the ground the rather large amount of blood it pooled inside your mouth.

”Man, that was a good punch, I’ll give you that,” you spoke calmly but attaching a tinge of sarcasm too. ”Can I try it?”

Surprisingly, at the sound of your voice all the psychos shut their mouth, but it didn’t last long. They started to yell almost right after three seconds of silence, encouraging Raven to not give in and ”beat the crap out of you.”  You sighed loudly, ruffling more your hair – they were getting on your nerves with Raven up and Raven down.

Until the next move was made, time seemed to stay still. In the distance only screams from the innocent people getting brutally murdered were heard. By the morning this theme park will be nothing more than just a memory of Jerome’s slaughter. In the air the smell of fear and death floated, engulfed and suffocated every being, leaving you only two options: either give in and let it consume you or just get intoxicated and die in misery.

Raven prepared to go back at you, however this time you dodged her in such way that made it way too easy to kick her in the stomach. The kick was powerful enough, the top of your shoe slightly digging into the soaking spot where you shot her earlier and so Raven fell like a sack of potatoes on the ground screaming obscenities at you. Your foot moved on its own and kicked her more all over the body, the smirk that you wore not once fading.

”She’s beating Raven...” one from the crowd mumbled, a few steps in the back by Jerome’s crew. He gulped at the sight of blind hatred unfolding right before his eyes.

Jerome turned his attention to the guy and asked on a threatening tone, ”So what if she is? Don’t tell me this girl scares you.” That guy refused to speak another word and focused back on you both fighting.

As Raven managed to crawl away and pick herself up off the ground, people saw how badly you managed to injure her. You chuckled darkly.

”Such a nice piece of work, however, it’s not finished yet,” you taunted; your hand slowly made its way to your back to grab the scissors. ”You just need some final touches and you’ll be as good as going to your own funeral.”

”You’ll pay for all this...”

”Will I really?” you kept taunting.

”Believe me, you will. No one messes with me... whatever your name is. You were spying on Jerome Valeska. There’s one woman who’ll have the privilege of becoming his,” Raven spoke on a menacing voice.

At this unexpected thing everyone turned their gaze to the one and only Jerome, who sat innocently on the ground. Even you turned to look at his expression.

”Aww, ladies fighting over me, that’s absolutely touching,” Jerome chuckled as he shrugged carelessly.

You slowly turned your gaze back to Raven, a mocking grin beginning to creep on your lips. Your shoulders shook gently from the contained laughter.

”Well, isn’t it so cute?” you said after your amusement died but the grin remained. ”So nostalgic almost.”

You both launched at each other, fists colliding and knuckles dripping with blood. As much as you wanted to pull out your weapon and stab her in the neck, you found that it wasn’t the right moment for the _grand finale_. But this thought that occurred in a split second in the fight costed you a hard punch in the jaw, sending you down on the pavement and Raven on top of you, punching you like she was crazily attacking a punching bag.

Somehow this both excited and gave a slight tinge of annoyance to Jerome. He didn’t take notice when his facial expression changed from a big grin to a frown and the need to chop Raven to bits suddenly appeared. Yet, as soon as the desire appeared it vanished just as quickly when Jerome saw you were actually enjoying it, your laughter finally making its way to his ears.

”Why the fuck are you laughing about?!” Raven screamed in your face, enraged. But you didn’t answer; instead you spat the blood right in her eye.

”I laugh because I don’t take you serious at all, not even as a joke,” you laughed more, hitting with all your power the bridge of her nose, breaking it from the impact.

 Raven pulled away clutching onto her aching nose, blood flowing in rivers from between her slim fingers. It ran down to her mouth and chin, a few drops landing on her half exposed chest. You stood up in the cheers and claps of the public. Your hand went under your shirt, pulling out your sharp friend – the blood had wiped itself on your skin and fabric of jeans and now those beautiful, lethal scissors were glistering in the lights.

”It’s been fun but I think it’s time to put it to an end, shall we?” you grinned as you held the weapon tight in your palm just a few inches below your chin, bright blood reflecting into the blades.  

And you rushed to Raven. You were about to pounce on her as she still tended to her nose and couldn’t get the time to properly defend herself when someone tackled you down, slapping your hand hard and making you drop the scissors.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think in the comments~


	6. Chapter 6

You came to realize as soon as you hit the ground that the cute brunette guy just tackled you down. Bruce pressed his weight on you, immobilizing your lower half as his hands fought with your own. And in that very moment gunshots were heard in the distance – everyone looked in the way from where they made themselves heard and GCPD was advancing forward. Some were ready to attack and others just ran away in such a mess that they even tripped and stepped on the ones fallen down.

”Jimbo, what an unpleasant surprise!” Jerome chimed loudly.   

No one spared you a look now and this kinda annoyed you. What, couldn’t you get notorious too, just as your idol? Bruce returned his gaze to you, still fighting with your agile hands that slipped from his grip everytime.

”I dare you to hit me. Come on, show me what you’re made of,” you told him, a cocky grin blooming on your lips. Your voice caught everyone’s attention and now all eyes were set upon you two. A part of you actually wanted to be hit by him.

Bruce’s hands tried to keep yours in place and in a blink of an eye something determined his fist to raise in the air, but stopped right there. And now his fist was trembling with contained anger, knuckles beginning to turn a little pale. No one said a thing, only waited for Bruce to do something.

”Damn, how I love the chivalry in a man,” you laughed arrogantly. A rough sound was heard as one of the men pointed his gun at you. Then more sounds just like the first.

”You hit her, I shoot you. Jimbo, you shoot me, I kill Bruce,” said Jerome, pointing his gun in Bruce’s way. Not once had he taken his eyes off the cop.

Jim Gordon had his own gun pointed in the maniac’s way, the barrel targeting his forehead. But Harvey Bullock had his one pointed in the same direction in your way.

”Oh yeah? Do you think you’re faster than us?” Jim asked.

”Please, your hands are goddamn trembling on your triggers. You would not shoot her before Bruce hits her and I put one of my bullets in his skull,” Jerome grinned, tapping lightly with his finger the trigger.

Tension downed over you all like a curtain. Alfred was almost ready to jump on the boy and protect him from any possible harm. Jim and Harvey could feel how their fingers suddenly became sweaty and their guns seemed like they were slowly slipping away from Jim and Harvey’ tight grip. Bruce still had his fist hung up in the air, wanting to hit you but at the same time it would mean that he has hit a girl  and would go against his morals. And then there you are, you and Jerome Valeska, the ones who didn’t give a fuck about all the outcomes of this situation.

Out of nowhere a bullet sprang from one of the three guns and made the others jump slightly.

”Oops, my finger slipped,” Jerome chuckled darkly. The gun had been lowered so the bullet would ricochet and hit the fence instead.

”Are you insane?!” Harvey yelled, more shaken up than the rest, although the bullet clearly was pointed very near Jim’s leg.

”Did you really ask me that?” he deadpanned before breaking into a fit of laughter.

You took this chance and freed your hand. Your tightly clenched fist collided with his cheek, the action taking Bruce by surprise and the impact forcing him to back a little. Your foot pushed hard into his stomach, now fully getting him off you.

”Master Bruce!” you vaguely heard a man yell after the boy. You sat up on your bottom, cross-legged, and wearing a shit-eating grin.

Alfred was about to rush to his side, but the young man stopped him. That was the cue for Jerome to shoot again, this time not missing the target on purpose. The two detectives ran in opposite directions, trying to find shelter from his bullets, preparing their own. It looked like they were busy taking out Jerome – or at least trying to - , so busy that they forgot about you sitting on the ground and watching all this as if some kind of show.

And then you remembered how Bruce annoyed you. It didn’t matter if he had made something specifically to you in the past hours, but Bruce surely had **it** in him that just ticked you off. You scrutinized him from his curly black hair down to the tip of his shoes with cold, dead eyes – blind fury was dancing into them.

Bruce took notice of the intense glare and turned to you. _She’s just a crazy psychopath_ , Bruce thought of you. From his point of view you looked just like a person that just lost his shit. There was no trace of a plan or a spark of humanity left... nothing at all. In his eyes, either it was you or Jerome or anyone else in this nightmare-like situation, it didn’t matter. You were just crazy human beings, your place was only in Arkham Asylum, away from mankind.

”So... Bruce,” you broke the silence, putting a lot of stress on his name, ”Why don’t we play a little, what do you say?”

”I think I will pass, sorry.”        

”Cocky, aren’t you, brat.”

”You’re not that far from the term yorself. You act just like Jerome–”

”Excuse me Bruce, but no one lifts up to my level of insanity!” Jerome yelled from the other side as he kept hunting on the detectives, not giving a shit if he hit some collateral victims at all.

”As much as I appreciate this comparison, there’s yet so much more to do until I will get on his level,” you smirked, already starting to fantasize a little about being actually a partner to him.

”Too bad you’ll be in Arkham,”  his firm voice interrupted your little fantasy. ”You’re crazy. You have no place among us.”

”Are you trying to anger me? Because you are succeeding doing it.” Your voice dropped so low that it resembled a hiss and because of the colorful lights, your irises took for a split second the color of blood. You took a step closer to the boy, and he took one backwards.

There was no smile on your face anymore, only a pokerface. The wind blew gently, almost passing unobserved, but made itself present by moving around your stray strands of hair. His statement rang inside your head, you’re just crazy and you don’t belong in their perfect world of good people. No, nothing like that. Even the execution seemed way too gentle for the likes of you, right?

”Have you ever taken a damn second of your life to ask yourself this: Why do we all turn mad?” you asked on a rather calm, steady voice; your eyes never faltered and pierced right through Bruce’s. His silence was your cue to continue. ”Well, let me tell you an actually amusing story about this little girl who just minded her shit. Always passed like the invisible one, very few talked to her. But the bullying? Oh boy, you should have seen the crazy ideas that materialized from her classmates,” you chuckled darkly, taking another step towards Bruce.

You were loud enough and Jerome could hear you too. His ears perked up a little just like a cat’s would when he heard the mention of abuse. Your tone of voice was laced with hatred.

”Imagine how they had beaten her up on the school halls, kicked her so hard that she was unable to eat for a whole week and a half. Or being dragged on the floor by her hair, I can bet the screams and cries were of joy. Especially the tears,” you hissed with a sick grin on your face.

Bruce kept quiet, resuming to only backing away from you. But this did not mean that he wouldn’t fight back now if you made up your mind to assault him.

”You know what was the favorite for this little girl?” you asked, breaking instantly into a fit of laughter. ”The very best thing was at the pool, swimming classes. Guess what? Her classmates were there too. Picture this: a child of 14 years old, the skin of arms, legs and stomach  adorned with old and fresh cuts. Deep or superficial, with coagulated or with blood still seeping through. Some itching, some craving the blade more to return there and just **cut**. Cut, cut, CUT!” you yelled out, the expression of madness painted on your face.

”It was your choice of hurting yourself,” Bruce spoke quietly, bracing himself for any possible attack anytime soon.

The smile wiped itself off your face once again. A thin line took its place. You closed and opened your fists, feeling your fingers way too damn tensed.

”You think you have an answer for everything, huh?  I’ve been through fucking hell, and you think I’m the one to be blamed for becoming like this?! Protect the innocent... Innocent my damn ass, no one is innocent here!” you screamed, running towards him, yet Bruce dodged it in the last second.

”You’re wrong.”

”Shut up! If you think I’ll be sorry now for drowning that stupid boy in the pool that day, you’re wrong. If you think I’ll bow down and beg for mercy after setting on fire my step-father, you’re delusional,” you answered Bruce through gritted teeth.

”You could’ve called the police.”

”You know what, you little smartass? I’ll give you a piece of my mind. I’ll beat the hell out of you, I’ll slit open your throat and watch how you struggle to breathe, slowly drowning in your own blood...”

Bruce escaped you again. You were breathing heavily, your pupils were dilated and the desire to murder the boy in the most gruesome way just wouldn’t leave you alone. You felt yourself as if you were rabid. It was something new to you this feeling of stupid madness, but you dealt with it anyway.

And in one moment of carelessness regarding someone, Bruce’s butler came to the boy's rescue and hit your head quite hard. You hit the ground with a loud thud, and the sound of something cracking was heard as you fell and your head landed on a few rocks.

”Good, one down. All we have to do now is  take this clown down too – ” Harvey finally spoke, but got interrupted by his partner.

”No... It’s too easy the way things ended up...”

”C’mon Jim, it’s not like she’d rise up. The psycho cracked her head open, you heard that sound!” Harvey argued more.

”Well Harvey, look at Jerome. He was dead and now is in front of us in flesh and blood,” Jim motioned towards Jerome who smirked and waved at them. ”No one stays dead in Gotham anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I had like 5 or 6 plot twists and struggled a little how to incorporate my ideas in it. And as you could see, there's still much more. I wanted to create a cliffhanger / suspense whatever too.  
> Anyways, if you like it, I'd appreciate if you left kudos for the work and a comment on how things are going ^^


	7. Chapter 7

Jim had his gun pointed right in the middle of Jerome’s forehead. The redheaded man wondered in his mind if that really was the end for you. His cold eyes moved up and down your motionless body, searching for something that might betray you’re still alive – however, he didn’t seem to find it. In all fairness, you indeed hit the ground and your head landed on a few rocks. Jerome didn’t see those stupid rocks, but he sure as hell has heard the loud noise that the collision produced. 

Then he shifted his gaze towards Bruce and his butler that tended to him, speaking on a very low voice. Bruce wasn’t stupid, nothing like that, and it came to absolutely no surprise to Jerome to notice a spark in his dark eyes that betrayed his plans.   

”Such a shame, I sorta liked her guts,” he spoke softly, playing with his own gun.

”If it’s such a shame, why don’t you join her? You know, keep her company on the other world,” Harvey retorted. ”Just let us put a bullet in your head and return to the dead. Everybody wins at the end of the day.”

”Bullock, you are so no fun,” Jerome pouted.

 

The chit-chat continued on and on, some laughs and some more threats, but nothing else... for now. You tried to keep quiet at the intense throbbing pain in your head. It seemed that the fall has caused some of your synapses to go a little crazy inside your pounding head. Or so you thought that has happened.

You felt your fingers numb, barely able to move them, and the warm blood ran down the right side of your face. Your temples hurt like someone just came and drilled them, the drill twist bit not stopping spinning at all and just keeping pushing inside your temple. When you opened your eyes you saw stars, and the lights of the carnival were not friendly either. It was the worst type of headache that you ever experienced.

It took a lot of strength to place your trembling hands under your chest and lift your body. A long, painful moan escaped your lips; your knees barely managed to stop from shaking so bad and prevent your shocked body from falling once again. Your slouched form swung a little before fully regaining its balance.

”No way...” Harvey mumbled, stupefied. ”She-She should’ve been dead!”

”I told you, not in this city, Harvey,” Jim commented, moving his hand from Jerome to you in an almost mechanical way. He faintly heard the maniac’s loud laughter, and if Jerome had said something, it passed unnoticed, almost like a ghostly whisper by Jim’s ears.

On the other hand, you still had trouble adjusting to the pain. You blinked mutiple times trying that way to get rid of those sparkly stars from behind your eyelids while you softly touched the hideous hole – what was covered not too long ago by soft skin, now it was only a black hole from which blood flooded freely.

”...well, ouch,” you winced at the whipping pain.

”How the hell are you still alive?!” Alfred asked, not taking his eyes off you as he tried to cover Bruce with his body.

”Looks like neither death wants me,” you shrugged. ”Either that or it’s just not the right time for me to bite the dust,” you finished with a smirk, cracking your neck and fingers.

”Are you done yet?” Bruce spoke, rather impatient and somewhat sick by now of all this fucked up situation.

”Little Brucey got bored so quickly? Killjoy...” you sighed dramatically. ”But you know what? I’ll be damned to let you leave after what your bodyguard has done to me. I’ll make you pay for this damage,” you smirked as you took a few wobbly steps towards them, ”I’ll crack open that cute head of yours with a rock too. I’ll chop you off limb by limb and then feed you to those murderous fish.”

”You’re more deranged than Jerome...” Bruce spoke, his voice still firm.

”Except we got a problem here, doll. I like your attitude and imagination, but he’s mine to kill,” Jerome addressed you on a wannabe pouting voice, but the evil grin told you otherwise.

You didn’t turn your gaze to him as you advanced forward, your own grin spreading wider and the madness inside your eyes intensifying by the second.

”What can you do? You’re bare handed,” Alfred commented, protecting Bruce more.

”Do you want to see what I can do?” you answered, cracking your fingers more. ”Who says my fists are no weapon?”

Alfred rushed to you, aiming in your way but you dodged. You fought with him some more, not liking to admit even to yourself that the butler actually managed to block your attacks and even grabbing your hand so tight you thought he twisted it.  

”Let go, old man!” you screamed as you struggled to escape the painful grasp. However, you misplaced your foot and ended up somehow kneeling in front of Alfred; the grip tightened.

”Who are you calling old man, young lady? Don’t you have manners?”         

 

Meanwhile, Bruce rushed somewhere else and Jerome went to chase after him. From afar it looked like a cat chasing mice, the cat somehow always changing its shape from Jerome to the detectives or viceversa, even Bruce took the cat’s shape at some point.

” I’ll put you in a cell with 7 locks on it in Arkham. You and that girl too,” Jim threatened the clown, pointing the gun in his way.

”Mhm, put us both in the same cell,” came Jerome’s reply accompanied by his infamous grin.

Both men took on a disgusted face at the thought of you and him being locked together; Bruce was now nowhere to be seen. Only Jerome found the idea quite interesting.

”I can picture how entertaining it would be if we were locked both in same cell,” Jerome laughed more, tapping the barrel of his revolver against his temple. ”Imagine all the moans she’s make, she wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

”When was the last time you looked in a mirror, Valeska? Because with your face now who would look at you?” Harvey randomly commented.

”Wow, that was rude, Harvey,” Jerome deadpanned after a five second long stare at the cop. He sighed, spinning his gun bored. ”Don’t you really have something else to do, Jimbo?”

”Taking you down, Jerome. That’s what I’ll do.”

”Not thaaat, you’re such a boring person I wonder how that doc stayed with you. Let these people have their fun. Let them be free,” Jerome said. ”Gotham has no law after all. GCPD has not enough cells for all these madmen, am I right?” he laughed loudly. ”Let them be set free out of their cages in which  you have trapped each and every one of them.”

Jerome  wore that grin on his face, pointing at Jim and ready to put a bullet in his skull at last when you came running. You took a spin by grabbing onto Harvey’s leather jacket and then dashing away laughing loud enough to wake the dead.

”Catch me if you can!” you yelled at them, your half covered in blood face sparkling sickly into the bright lights of the carnival. But you underestimated the distance between you and Harvey, even the absurd possibility of getting hurt, when out of nowhere gunshots were heard and a bullet was stuck deep inside your arm.

Jim shot you in the arm, his reaction velocity being higher than his partner’s. He watched you crouch down and hold tight onto your now bleeding arm, growling in both pain and anger. Serves her right, you heard one of them say on a rough voice.

And for the first time ever, Jerome approached you and helped you stand on your two feet.

”Don’t get used to this, doll. Not helping you up the next time shit gets wild.”

At the speed of sound, Jerome turned back to the two men and shot randomly at them while yelling around for Bruce to show up. ”Oooh Brucey, come out boy, we have some unfinished business!”

That was your signal to clear off and run from the scene. You forgot about the bullet still being inside your arm, the faint warmth from Jerome’s large hand that lingered on your own was the one that made a childish smile spread wide on your lips. You turned on your heels and ran away, this time Harvey being on your tail. In your way you made some twists and turns, at some point passing by the ones throwing darts and even stole one, trying your luck. However you had to be quick and ran again before making out where exactly did that dart get planted. You vaguely heard someone cheer loud, ”right in her tit!”

”Come back here, you sicko!” Harvey yelled after you, firing the gun but having a very poor aiming while running.

You took another turn and grinned at the pool of blood under the pendulum ride. You ran faster to gain speed and once you put your foot on the blood, you bended your knees and slided off, leaving Harvey to take a hard fall on the back.

You stopped abruptly from the intense chase, grinning at Harvey who tried to sit up but only to slip again on the fresh blood. You chuckled at him, turning  on your heels and making a run for the exit, ready to head home.

After you set foot out of the carnival’s ground it felt like the rest of the night fell quiet. The wind blew gently and it gave a refreshing feeling, except that it made your wounds (especially the one on your temple) itch and hurt like hell. You made your way back to your house bored, holding tight onto your still bleeding arm and wondering how you could pull out that damn bullet.

Still, there were droplets on the pavement that led the way to your place. And someone took notice and followed them, much closer to you than you have suspected.

”Hmm,” the man grinned, waiting for the perfect moment to step out of the shadows and pay you a visit.      


	8. Chapter 8

It was a dark hole your place. Everything was surrounded by pure darkness... darkness and silence. And you liked it this way. No more useless yelling or your mother hurt and crying on the floor or you locked in your room and banging the door, trying to break it out of its hinges.

You sat down on the couch and tried to listen to it, choosing to ignore a little bit more the insupportable pain and pushing the thought of infections to the side. You didn’t give a shit about that at this moment. But for some reason you felt the need to cry. Why?, you didn’t  know to answer yourself. You threw your head on your back, cracking softly.

_What am I going to do now?_

The question flew around in your hazy mind sometimes in bold letters, other times brightly colored in yellow or crazy pink or just simply faded, resembling a creepy question written in smudged black ink. Your head pounded even harder than before.

”Do I really have to...?” you asked yourself in a low voice but nothing answered your unfinished, rhetorical question.

You stared with mild hate towards the bathroom, slowly raising from your seat and going there. You still needed to pull out the bullet from your arm and to clean the other wounds. A shudder crossed your body at the thought of immense, racking pain because of the alcohol.

Sighing, you took out the first aid kit along with some pincers. Opening the box, you were glad to find there a needle and a thread – you needed to sew that wound. Carefully you dipped the pincers in the rubbing alcohol and procedeed to push it in. You winced loud at the stinging feeling but didn’t pull it out. You blindly fished beween your muscles and veins in your arm until you finally grabbed a hold of the tiny bullet. Letting out a deep growl of pain, you pulled it out and threw it on the floor, the pincers and bullet leaving small blood stains until they stopped bouncing. You took deep, uneven breaths, clutching onto your arm – blood seeped between your fingers and ran down the rest of  your arm, dropping on the tile floor and creating a small pond. The light coming from the candle reflected into the mirror glass and then refracted into the droplets, giving them a small sparkle. You stared at the bright and fresh red liquid that seemed dark now, then sighed after a few more moments of silence. _I should get this fuck of a wound bandaged now..._

You pulled your bloody hand away, rinsing it before taking what you needed for sewing and bandaging. You grabbed the cotton disk first and dipped it into the rubbing alcohol, gently tapping on the wound. It stung and burned as you disinfected it, the cotton disk absorbing the blood and soon needing to dip another into the blue liquid and tap your wound with it. You winced time to time, but it was still bearable though; you were more worried about the moment when you had to clean your temple, that said moment seeming to approach with fast steps now. Finally you picked the needle and thread and began to push it through your now numb flesh, stitching the split opposites back together. Now it was time for the bandage and you were done with your arm. But someone perhaps hated you and wanted you to suffer a little longer, because the bandage soon started to soak through with your blood that still seeped through your stitches.  

Looking to your other arm you saw the staples Jerome has placed in your flesh. Those seemed not so serious and they didn’t bleed anymore. But you still had to clean them too. This time you used your fingers to pull out the staples that got stuck inside, them putting on a fight until finally being out of your arm. _Stupid staples_ , you thought. Repeating the procedure, you cleaned those tiny scrapes too. Now it was the dreadful moment of taking care of the worst wound of them all.

If you stayed on the edge of the bathtub to clean your wounds, now you needed to stand up and face yourself into the mirror. In other circumstances, maybe more normal, you would have screamed your lungs out and probably would have fainted too at the disgusting, horrifying aspect of your once beautiful face. Your temple was now just a hollow black space from which blood still poured freely, in its slow pace, however it had clotted by now in random places but mostly at the base. On your right side of face there was now nothing but alternated fresh and dried trails of red, covering mostly of your skin.

 ”This is going to be so painful,” you mumbled to yourself, your voice somehow still echoing throughout the bathroom. It was still dark and the candles burning did nothing but to remind you how you used to think monsters existed and hid in the cabinets and mirrors.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, dark room being reflected behind you, you drifted back in your childhood when you stumbled upon an urban legend saying that if you go in the bathroom at night, with or without a small source of light you didn’t remember quite well, you would see a ghost in the mirror trying to get you and drag you in it. You were so scared of that happening you almost never wanted to go to the bathroom at night. It was long before the time you got so pissed at the world and started battling your demons until they had finally conquered your rational thoughts, making your heart turn ice cold, your tears to dry in their ducts and all in all to become the psycho you proved yourself to be tonight. And you kind of liked it. Your once innocent self was now dead and buried inside you. A stronger, more daring woman rose up and you took revenge on the ones who had ever hurt you. Fuck rational, fuck being normal, fuck being what the world wants you to be, it’s more fun to be different and have an impact on others.

”I am who I am and I like it this way,” you told yourself as your hand absently went to the bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton disks.

You dipped the disk in it until the alcohol soaked through and reached your fingers. You braced yourself for the immense pain you were about to go through but you had no other option – having it infected was no good either. With a shaking hand you approached it to your temple. It was only a mere touch and you felt as if someone just poured gasoline on your wound with a syringe, dripping one drop at a time, taking great pleasure in watching you grit your teeth.

You took a shaky deep breath and tried to man up, pressing the fully soaked cotton disk on the entirety of your temple. Alcohol rubbed in and mixed with your blood, making its way inside your head and burning your nerves. You grabbed hard the edge of the sink, knocking in your sudden move the candle down as well, its light going out and leaving you in almost darkness; there was one more candle left burning.You breathed harshly through your nostrils and mouth, constellations appearing behind your tightly shut eyelids. And despite the hellish pain, something seemed to keep your hand in place, you just couldn’t take it away yet. Your knees buckled underneath you and you swore you could feel yourself almost sliding off and falling to the floor. Yet, you didn’t, you steadied yourself and regained some control over yourself.

When you eventually managed to rip it off from being glued to your once again bleeding temple, you dipped another disk in the goddamn alcohol and pressed again. You tried to wipe the blood off but the pain returned twice as bad and stinging, having you let out a loud shriek.

”This thing is more of a bitch... the second time it’s used...” you commented, watching in the badly illuminated mirror how blood just kept falling.

You tried again to clean the wound and disinfect it but at this point it was just too much. You felt so lightheaded and lost so much blood apparently that your body just gave in. You lost your strength in both your arm and legs, collapsing on the floor unconscious. The candle that was still burning on the small shelf under the mirror gave out a silhouette standing now in the doorframe, watching your limp body laying on the floor.

”Such a mess,” he murmured, the tinge in his voice betraying amusement and irony.

 

***************************

You slowly woke up with a grunt. The light of the day shone bright through your windows and landed on your closed eyes. You squinted your eyes, wondering if you should really open them or just go back to sleep. Your hands lifted up and rubbed them, preparing to face the daylight, but not before mumbling something in a drowsy voice.

”Ten more minutes, mom, then I’ll be up...”

A small, deep chuckle followed almost instantly your sentence.

”Sorry honey, but you ought to get up. You don’t want your guest to feel neglected, now do you?”

The manly voice took you by surprise and instantly your body shot up. However... that was clearly a bad move. Your head pounded hard yet again and the suture hidden by the white cotton bandage now ripped open again, soaking the material. You held your head in both your hands, somehow trying this way to hold still your pain and subside it. Then a chuckle echoed again. You opened one eye and looked at Jerome who was sitting on a chair, head laid on his arms and watching your every move.

”What.. are you doing here? Ow...”

”After I saved your pretty head and made an effort to be the good guy, this is all I am getting? Rude,” Jerome teased, his chest vibrating lightly from contained laughter. ”I must say you did a number last night, I almost thought you stole my show. Which I do not like,” he finished with a grin.

”Well then, I’m sorry,” you shrugged carelessly.

”You should be, my dear. You see, while you were knocked out and I thought you simply died from that small wound on your temple, I took the liberty of exploring this fine house.”

Jerome made a pause and his grin widened, prolonging the dramatic moment. ”And then I wandered inside your bedroom. Wow, I have to say it seemed like a war happened in there.”

”Whatever, cut to the point,” you mumbled, still rubbing your head.    

”You weren’t this rude last night, missy,” Jerome argued with you, his voice a little higher resembling one of a surprised kid’s voice. ”Anyway, I stumbled on a small notebook with black covers and... you want to know what it was written?” he grinned wide.

”Oh God...”

Jerome pulled out the small notebook out from his back and opened at a random page. He began to read aloud what you had written at that time – it was about the many mathods you could stick with to kill Jack.

”Hmm, nice ideas, may I steal some?” he laughed. ”Aww, strangling this Jack guy with a hose or putting rat poison in his food, so cute,” Jerome exclaimed. ”I personally like the rat poison one.”

”I liked it more when I stabbed him with my scissors then set him on fire.”

This left Jerome a little taken aback and with his eyes a little wide. You continued talking.

”He deserved it for killing mom. He’s hit her so much and last night he just pushed her and fell on that glass table. He deserved to burn alive and now he is dust inside my trash can,” you finished on a very calm voice.

Jerome looked at you some more and then laughed loudly, hitting his knee in the process. ”You’re quite interesting, dollface. Too bad you’d be covered in scars just as me,” he whispered as he came close to you and bended down to your level from the waist. ”I used to have a beautiful face, just like yours. But some... unhappy circumstances led to – and he circled his hand around his face kept in place by the staples – this not so handsome face.”

”I guess there has to be some visible scars too to show what determined someone to do something. Not only spiritually,” you commented.

”Keep it simple, baby, no need for pompous words. Although I like how your brain is still working after that hit.”

”Will you stop reminding me I almost died because of that stupid old man?!” you yelled in his face, and with this the tearing pain returning in your skull.

”So brave and fearless,” he lowered his voice to a small growl, bringing his lips close to your ear. ”That’s not some attitude to put on in front of your crush, is it?” Jerome dragged the question in a choked voice, smirk latched to it and easy to track inside his tone.

He only pulled away after emphasizing the last three words, giving a small nibble to your earlobe. Soon you felt your cheeks warming up a little, suddenly shy at the small gesture.

”You wrote a lot about me, it seems,” Jerome spoke in his normal voice, cockiness evident from a mile away. ”You like me, you admire my work and even... should I say it?” he taunted, though taking your wide eyes as a sign to continue. ”Quote: When I saw this morning that he and other inmates who are not so important escaped Arkham, I was so happy I almost jumped from my seat. But I remembered Jack was there and mom too, and my outburst of happiness would not be alright. Buuut... why was a woman too?? She’s a bit cute, but seriously?!”

By now your ears were also set on fire. You gulped, sensing nothing good was about to come out of this.

”Should I mention you drew cute tiny knives around her name and a little black heart next to my name?” Jerome broke into a fit of laughter that echoed from every corner of the living room. You felt so embarrassed now.

”Shut up...” you mumbled, hiding your face in your arms.

”Awww, did I embarrass you?” Jerome chuckled. He laughed even more when he noticed your small nod. ”That’s why you came last night, to meet me. Am I right?” 

And you nodded again.

”It sucks you ended up so... ripped to pieces!” Jerome laughed loudly again.

”Are you done yet?” came your weak voice. Somehow his words hurt your pride more than your feelings and so you wanted him to just leave you alone.

”Noo, not yet, this is so much fun,” he chuckled. ”Besides, cops are picking up my followers and it’s best for me to lay low for a while.”   

”Not my damn business.”

”Well ouch, you shot straight into my heart,” he faked a hurt voice as he clutched his chest.

And this was enough for you to react on instinct and just slap him. You slapped him so hard that you literally moved his face out of its place. For a moment Jerome glared at you and whipped out his own blade.

”Normally I would have sunk the knife deep in your neck and watch you choke on your blood but...” and he took a deep breath, putting the knife back to its place, ”Stitch back my face, say you’re sorry and I’ll try forgive you slapping me. How’s that sound, doll?”

You looked straight in his eyes, his now hideous face out of place. You tried to find out why you didn’t attempt to kick him and the only reasonable thought that came to you was your feelings. Your feelings kept tugging at your heart strings and you just couldn’t do it. You wanted to talk with him, have him face to face so badly before and now you were about to throw him out the door.

You sighed.

”Fine... Give that thing to me.”

Jerome smirked, handing you the stapler and sitting on the couch. ”Good girl, dollface.”

You propped yourself on your knees and leaned forward. Your left hand stretched his face back to where it should be and stapled it. Jerome grimaced and his eyes slightly rolled back in his head at the pain. Soon another staples followed, you being focused in what you were doing that you failed to notice his arm wrapping around your waist. Jerome pulled you closer to his body, making you fall forward and end up on his lap. His hand grabbed your ass tight as a smirk appeared again on his lips.

”I see you’re eager for more of me,” he whispered in your ear, biting it again.


	9. Chapter 9

You stared at him as if he was some kind of funny thing. Sure, you had fantasies in which you fucked him out of his senses but still, this came out of the blue. It was a thing to fantasize and another to actually just jump straight into it. In this position, however, his knee was in between your legs and pressed hard against your womanhood. His large hand kept groping your ass, pulling time to time on the waistband just to give you a mini heart attack. His mad eyes bore into yours and in them danced a spark of something you didn’t know what it was: was it amusement, or content, or just the spark of deceit ?

”Are you scared, babygirl?” Jerome whispered, suddenly very close to your lips. His hot breath fanned over your cheeks, making them turn a little rosy. ”I can hear your heart loud and clear,” he continued on that low voice.

You too heard your heart beating so hard against your ribcage that it echoed in your ears, your pulse instantly speeding up and for a second you felt lightheaded. As much as you wanted it, you still wondered about that spark that you caught a glimpse of. Was he going to just use you to get some?

( _Fuck it, so what if he’s gonna use me?_ )

What if he’ll kill me after he’s had his fun?

( _So what? Like I have anything else to live for._ )

As you kept thinking about this issue for way too long, Jerome gently rubbed his knee by your clothed womanhood, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth – that tiny natural smirk only serving for the scarred one to widen a bit more. His free hand went in your hair and massaged for now your scalp. You let out a soft sigh at the touch, swallowing hard.

”You know, it’s quite admirable how you keep your lips so tightly shut. I almost think you are teasing me by not letting those moans free,” he snickered. “Come on, I won’t bite… well, unless you want me to, but something tells me you **will** want me to bite you.”

It seemed like you were under his spell, if he told you now to walk on a rope above the Great Canyon with high chances of falling, you would do it. His face looked hideous up close, his fingers began to grip tighter onto your hair and it hurt now that you gave it a thought… but you didn’t pull away yet. You kept staring into his eyes.

“Slit your throat open for me,” he purred in your ear, making you shiver. “I want to see how your blood flows free and covers your bare breasts, with your nipples erect from the thrilling chills that grip mercilessly at your body. Hah, I can picture how you struggle to breathe, your beautiful eyes widening in horror as you face your death. Your hands won’t move to stop the flow, you’ll feel how that warm liquid just paints your flesh and then… bam, you drop lifeless to the floor and your gaze is fixed on me,” Jerome fantasized, madness sparkling in his eyes again.

The end of his sentence suddenly snapped you out of the trance he had you wrapped in and you glared. Without much thought, your hand lifted in the air and landed quite forcefully on his face, literally moving his face out of its place again. And as if that wasn’t enough, you kicked him in the balls with your knee, getting up from his lap. The nasty look Jerome threw in your way was powerful enough to make anybody cower in fear of what he might do to them, but not you. You stood fearlessly in front of Jerome and glared at him.

“And may I know for what I got kicked in my balls?” Jerome hissed, hand already clasping the gun that lay beside him.

“You got the audacity to ask that, freak?”

“Hey, mind your language, I’m not the only freak in this house,” Jerome raised his voice a bit in hopes you’d be a little afraid of him taking control, but to his disappointment he got no reaction from you. “You got guts, kid…” he finally admitted after a long pause.

“Thanks,” you retorted on a bitter tone; why you used that tone, you didn’t know either, but it came natural for you.     

Ever since you found out about what he had done to his mother and how he got such a notorious killer whom Gotham feared, you wanted to meet him, to talk to him... and other stuff, of course. But something just ticked you off a few minutes ago. Was it the fact for a moment he had you wrapped around his finger or the way he described what he wanted you to do? Or perhaps both? The wound sent a wave of painful shocks in your head and for a second you saw colorful constellations before your eyes, however you regained your composure back.

”I joked earlier,” Jerome smirked after he stapled his face back in place. ”Ahh...aah... Damn, this shit hurts as fuck. You should try doing this sometime, maybe then you all would stop throwing my face wherever you want.”

You giggled at that. You didn’t intend on doing that, but the way Jerome said it and even waved in the air the stapler seemed so hilarious that you couldn’t help but laugh. What started like a small giggle soon turned into a fit of laughter. You bended slightly from the waist and held onto your sides as you laughed. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this.

Jerome tilted his head to the side a little and watched you laugh. His eyes switched to your temple and noticed how it got stained a little, but he chose to ignore it – just like you did. While you were in your little world, you failed to notice Jerome taking off his shirt and throwing it somewhere randomly. His white jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, a small bulge visible in his black boxers. Jerome leaned forward and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to his body again. You let out a surprised yelp, falling on your knees. Your hands grabbed his own for leverage as your head just happened to fall on his lower abdomen, pretty close to his crotch. Jerome petted you on the head, a smirk playing on his lips.

” Since you were so mean earlier and kicked me there, my dick is in pain. So I want you to kiss it better.” 

You gave him a long stare, not doing anything yet. Your face was glued to his lower abdomen, therefore you were able to feel a little his bulge too. You’d lie if you said now you didn’t dream of actually sucking him one time, but now you didn’t want it. Jerome was not worthy of it because of what he said earlier. Your lips remained closed tight and your eyes just as cold, trained on him.   

”Tough little girl you are,” Jerome snickered, his fingers threading in your hair and pulling harshly. ”But I will make you eat out of my palm. I’ll have you walk on your hands and knees around me just like a puppy and you wouldn’t complain anymore. I’ll wake you up at 3 AM in the morning for a quick fuck and you would welcome me with legs wide open... after all, how could you close them? I’d cuff your legs to each end of the bed and have your legs spread open 24/7. Of course, uncovered because there will be no fun anymore, right babygirl?”    

You gulped. For a bastard reason, you found it quite thrilling, being exposed like that only for the one and only Jerome Valeska. In you there was a battle between your owwn demoans, the rational and the reckless ones. Some were yelling for you to not become his slut, while others just preached how you’d become Jerome’s little girl and finally be able to fulfill your fantasies with this psychopath. And it was quite easy and clear to see which side had more chances to win this battle – the ones who brought to surface the sluttish side of you. Your hands grabbed a little harder on his knees, unmoving the whole time.

”I see you want it the hard way. Alright, doll, your choice,” he smirked as he pulled your head up by the hair and kissed you rough, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips.

Jerome kept you in place, his harsh hold onto your hair making your scalp hurt and moving it in whatever direction he wanted in order to deepen the kiss as much as he could. His other hand came to rest on your throat, starting to slowly close his fist around your flesh. Maybe you were a little too lost in the rough kiss to notice how oxygen got drastically reduced and barely reached your lungs now; you felt lightheaded but you liked it. You just kept french kissing Jerome and chose to ignore the lack of air, to ignore the fact that later his fingerprints would be imprinted on your neck, in purple and green colors. Jerome pulled your head more on your back and towered over you, pushing as deep as he could his tongue inside your mouth, actually liking the taste of you and the new feeling. And your hands finally lost their tight hold onto him; your eyes began to roll back in your head and you were about to pass out if Jerome hadn’t pulled his hand away from your throat and let you fall on the ground like a sack of potatoes, gasping desperately for air. The room was spinning around.

”And this is only the beginning,” he laughed. ”You’re too easy to read. I saw in your eyes that you like being dominated but also dominate. Too bad I won’t give you control, so you’ll have to do with being my pet.”    

You remained in your spot, hair so disheveled and red fingerprints adorning either side of your neck. Your lungs craved air; even if you inhaled deeply it seemed like it wasn’t enough. Your chest ached a little from the effort. But you had little time to get your shit back together when Jerome pulled down his boxers and stood proudly in your face, his cock needing your attention. He didn’t even tell you to open your mouth, Jerome just grabbed your hair again and shook your head a little before forcefully pushing his member past your lips. He let out a long sigh in relief at the warmth and wetness... and at the tightness of your throat.

”Feels so good... Why I never shoved my cock in any girl’s mouth I met before? It feels so good to feel your throat contracting around me, saliva moisturizing my flesh... Aaah, I could stay with my cock shoved deep in your mouth all day,” Jerome cooed with a dirty smirk. ”Do your magic, doll, and if you behave maybe I will forget about punishing you and just fuck you against the wall.”

This time you obeyed and moved your tongue over his member. It was more like kitten licks rather than a proper blowjob because he was deep inside your mouth and didn’t move one inch. You tried to move your head back and forth a little but only on the distance he allowed – and Jerome didn’t allow you to fully pull away to come back after. He was guiding your head on him, controlling you and the speed he wanted this to be. You were going at a very slow pace on him and this seemed more to tease you than him. Taking a glance at him, you saw he looked unaffected by this pace, in fact he enjoyed more to see you breathing heavy and your legs unconsciously spreading wider on their own accord.     

 ”Keep doing this, doll, and maybe I will consider giving something in return. But oh wait, you don’t deserve anything for being a mean girl and moving my face out of its place after you so carefully stapled it back,” Jerome smirked.

You hummed quietly, the sound reverberating in the nerve endings  in his dick, making Jerome shiver.

”You’re playing with the wrong person, doll,” Jerome said in a sing-song voice.

And in an instant he pulled away from your mouth and went behind you, pushing your upper body down to the floor and keeping your ass high in the air. Jerome pulled down in one swift movement your pants and as for your panties he just resumed to tear them apart. .His large hand came to caress your ass cheek again before a hard slap was delivered. You let out a rather loud yelp at the stinging sensation. Jerome rubbed the head of his penis up and down between your wet folds and  in between your ass cheeks, precum mixing with your own juices.

”I wonder where should I go in first,” Jerome taunted. ”Your pussy or your asshole? Or should I take them both?”

You gulped, trying to look back at him. It was kinky and it got you more wet, but somehow it kind of scared you too the thought of him taking you like that. But instead of feeling his cock shoved mercilessly inside you, you felt his tongue sticking out and lightly massaging your folds. You arched your back and moaned loud, sticking out your  butt even more.

”So you’re impatient now,” he breathed on your core, giving a small nib to the sensitive flesh. ”Where is the rush though, we have all the time in the world. And, sweetheart, I will make sure to tear you apart by experiencing powerful orgasms and have you addicted to me,” Jerome finished with his characteristic laugh.                                          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you thought~


	10. Chapter 10

You woke up exhausted the next morning, it seemed like one round was just not enough for Jerome and so he considered wrecking your body until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your body ached all over and you felt dizzy, wanting nothing more than just go back to sleep. A part of you wanted to get up and look around for Jerome, but sleep was stronger than you and soon you fell back asleep.

Jerome was by your side though, smirking proud. The lewd sounds he snatched from the depths of your throat fueled his ego beyond limits. The thin red lines you’ve left on his back faded by now, but Jerome memorized the way they stung and excited him again; just thinking about them had him ready for another round. Your tightly closed eyes and disheveled hair on the pillow, one hand scratching his back while another gripped tight the sheets, your legs wrapped securely around his waist and curse words leaving your lips, your most private area pressed so tight to his crotch and his dick not being seen as he thrusted at a fast speed. Jerome relived all that and licked his lips, mad eyes turning to your sleeping form. His hand reached out and pulled away the blanket, exposing your naked body to his hungry gaze again. You shivered slightly and searched in your sleep the covers, not wanting to wake up at all. You turned and tossed, your breasts bouncing lightly. The cold air bit on your body as if serving the most sweet thing, making your nipples erect again and giving you the feeling of an invisible tongue caressing the top of your womanhood, not going lower and in between those lips. 

Jerome’s hungry eyes devoured your body, your skin not glowing anymore from the sweat. He licked his lips. If your body stopped glowing, all Jerome had to do was to ignite the flame again and there you will be, a burning torch right before his eyes and eager for his touch. He exchanged looks between your naked form and the tent under the blanket – in one swift move the cover was on the floor and Jerome’s cock stood up in pride. His large hand wrapped around it, almost chocking it and giving himself a little pain just for the kicks while the other one tangled itself in your hair and pulled lightly at first. You only let out a soft meow at the feeling but didn’t wake up.

”You won’t wake up for your needy lover?” Jerome said in a mocking voice, his grip tightening on your hair.

His hand moved up and down his shaft but hard, not being lubricated enough. So he lifted his hand and was about to spit on his palm when the thought of having **your** mouth sucking each finger and wetting them one by one crossed his mind. A sly smirk bloomed on his face as his fingers made their way to your parted lips, gently tracing them at first. You sighed softly.

”If you don’t wake up on your own, naked doll, I’ll wake you up... the kinky way.”

He scratched your bottom lip with his nail, pushing now his two fingers in your warm mouth. The hand that was in your hair moved to your eyes and covered them, so if you woke up you would see nothing but dark and be left with just the shadows of his rough touches. His fingers were now inside, your warm breath hitting his skin – Jerome let out a small strangled moan at the feeling. He moved his fingers aimlessly around till he got bored and pushed them deep down your throat. You choked at that and opened your eyes, yet only darkness was in front of you.

”Rise and shine, babygirl!” Jerome chimed, pressing his hand more on your eyes to block the light from possibly creeping between his long fingers. He got on top of you and continued to finger your throat, spit running down the corners of your mouth and breathless gasps left your body.

”Oh doll, you look so sexy like this,” the psycho chuckled in your ear, not so gentle while biting it. ”I want to hear you scream bloody murder as I fuck you into oblivion. I want you to beg me for more and say that I’m all you need: I’m your freedom, I’m your madness, I’m your world. I’m the one you’ll ever love.”

Jerome’s way of speaking and playing so naturally with the words sent shivers down your spine, causing your back to arch on his own. His deep and raspy voice did things to you that you would never admit out loud. Your legs began to rub together, feeling the uncomfortable moisture between your lower lips once more. And Jerome finally pulled away his now soaking wet fingers.

”J... Jero... me...” you breathed heavily his name, thoughts now scattered from your mind. A new high pitched moan escaped your parted lips as Jerome’s two fingers trailed down between your breasts and to your navel.

”Why are your legs so close to each other?” Jerome taunted. ”I can hardly see your pussy dripping for me and I must say I don’t appreciate when somebody hides something which belongs to me,” he finished with his characteristic laugh.

His nails suddenly dug in your skin deep, faint crescent moons forming as he moved slowly towards your womanhood. You gulped and moaned at the same time, choking with the saliva you struggled to swallow. You barely heard when he ordered you to open your legs for him. Jerome didn’t quite like it and so he pulled his hand that covered your eyes to harshly spread your legs apart, giving your thighs a harsh slap.

”I don’t like being disrespected, babydoll,” he purred, wearing that sadistic grin of his. ”Now that I have your attention – and your delicious core exposed to my eyes -, I want you to entertain me. Touch yourself and give me a full grown boner.”

It seemed like all rational thought left your mind and the only thing left behind was the will of blindly obeying Jerome’s orders. Your own hand traveled down there and all it took was a single stroke of one finger in between your folds for your body to jump. Jerome licked his lips, watching with great interest your every move. Your quiet moans were not enough for his ears and the slow tempo of your moves was not enough for you to reach your high.

“Are you teasing me, Y/N? ‘Cause I don’t like to be teased,” he mumbled through gritted teeth as he could feel his cock throbbing with need by now. Your innocent self displayed right now got him more excited than the forceful way he took you last night.

“Jerome… “ you moaned, throwing your head in the pillow as you pushed inside a finger and moved it quite fast. You were too lost in the feeling and too needy for your release to care anymore about the loud and pervert noises coming from the friction. You were about to wet your fingers in order to get even  more wet and get closer to your orgasm when Jerome pulled your hand away and pinned it on the mattress.

Out of nowhere he kissed you as hard as he could, pushing his erect and leaking member in your core with such force that it had your body rocking back and forth a little. Jerome was not one to patiently fuck you and take care of your needs first. All it mattered now was to get himself off, but of course after you’d come all over him. He didn’t care whether you wanted more or not, whatever Jerome wanted he would get it one way or another.

He pushed deep his tongue in your mouth and pulled your own to him, sucking hard on the muscle. His hips rocked at a mad speed that Jerome himself wasn’t aware. He could feel how your vagina clenched harder on his member and how your juices lubricated him more and more, making it so damn easy for him to slide back and forth. He was near finishing, but he restrained from coming in that moment because he wanted to see your body lift off the mattress and scream his name in pure pleasure.

“F… faster, Jerome…” you moaned desperately, hiding your face in his neck and scratching hard on his back. It was already too fast, even for Jerome, but he complied anyway.

And soon he saw you shut tight your eyes and scream from the bottom of your lungs his name. Your back arched and your legs wrapped tight around his waist to the point it hurt. One of your hands remained on his back, scratching his skin deep, as the other pulled on his hair. Soon enough  Jerome followed you, falling on top of you after he emptied himself inside you.

“It gets better and better, right doll?” Jerome teased while panting. Sweat was running down his face and his eyes sparkled.

A sudden wave of love, innocent love, washed over you and a smile bloomed on your lips. You looked in his eyes as your fingers played with his sticky hair, not even seeing the smirk still worn by the man on top of you. His dick felt now comfortable inside you, everything felt so right. You held Jerome close to your chest and closed your eyes. Sooner than expected, you fell into a deep slumber.                      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to write this chapter...  
> Because of my job I barely had any time to write properly so I apologize for this long wait. I still have some ideas for this story but it sure takes a lot till I come out with something that I like. I'll try writing more and come with new ideas and action (because I have a looot) and let me know what you think of this chapter~


	11. Chapter 11

As time passed and you and Jerome lay low, GCPD seemed to give up on you two for now. Occasionally Jerome would go out and kill or torment someone just for his own enjoyment, while the stealing was your job. Whenever Jerome left he would playfully slap your ass and you’d just giggle; this showed you that your early frights about him soon getting bored of you were totally unfounded. And for the first time you liked being not right.

By now the injury your temple suffered healed and a scar adorned now that section of skin. You personally found it very ugly and most of the time tried to hide it by applying foundation but it would still be noticeable enough; last night you were about to break the mirror as a sudden wave of fury at your own appearance washed over you if Jerome didn’t stop your fist from colliding with the glass as he just laughed loudly. When he was done laughing and saw your mad eyes staring through the mirror at him, Jerome only kissed your temple and smirked.

“Don’t mind that scar, doll.”

“It’s too damn ugly and only that kid is at fault…” you glared, gritting your teeth.

“Sure, it’s Bruce’s fault, but this scar makes you special in my eyes,” he cooed, spinning you to face him. “Look at me, I have my face sewed and I have so many scars that I’ve lost count of them.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, J,” you deadpanned.

“Well, lemme show you then,” Jerome smirked wider while slowly pulling down the strap of your bra. “If you were untouched I’d… maybe I’d have never looked at you. I’d have fucked you rough then maybe ditch you in a sewer dead and food for rats,” Jerome laughed maniacally as he pulled down your bra and began biting from your neck down to the valley of your breasts.

“M-mhhm…” you made small noises as you closed your eyes and tugged at his hair, your leg already pulled up to Jerome’s waist.

“But recalling how you fought the brat and were a little bad bitch towards Jimbo and his sad excuse of a partner always gets me going,” he mumbled as he moved to lick your areola. “The way you picked yourself up and were so relaxed even if you’ve taken a nasty fall… quite arousing, doll,” Jerome looked up at you and took your nipple in between his teeth. “Now lift your sexy ass and place it on the sink, I got a plan on how to ruin your body,” he finished with this order.

Now being in bed after the previous rough fuck session on your desk, you smiled with content despite being alone at the moment; it seemed as if Jerome was in some sort of heat since in the past week he had taken you from two to three times a day. You always wanted kisses and cuddles after sex with the psycho but you knew he wasn’t the type to just show it. Jerome had his rare moments of affection and was even more rare the times he would actually display it. In all this time - almost five months since the city had fallen into total darkness and he moved in your house - in all this time you received only two times a hug from him. But you never complained, it was kind of a paradox: you craved affection so much because you had never any at all, but also despised it with all your heart, so in the end for you it just looked like a win-win situation.

You closed your eyes and pulled the covers more over your body. Jerome’s touch still lingered on your skin and kept it warm; you tried to remember the fire in his kisses and his deep voice whispering obcenities into your ear in order to turn you on. Without realizing you’ve fallen so much in love with him that you thought of yourself as being a little dependent on his presence and found yourself not once looking around the house a little sad when he was out. You opened your eyes again and looked at the wall, a sad expression on your face. You felt the sudden need to hold him to your chest and play with his hair, for some reason you felt nervous but you didn’t find any possible reason for this feeling. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes but they never spilled. You had a bad feeling, just like you had that night when your mother died.

The front door opened and slammed shut with a loud noise, alerting you that Jerome returned home. His loud voice called for you, as if singing the bad news.

“Come downstairs, babygirl, I’ve got some news for you,” Jerome snickered. “You can walk naked or crawl naked if you’re still sore,” he laughed some more at his own joke.  

You got out of bed and threw on your body a random oversized shirt, stepping out of your room. You messed more your hair, a habit you developed when you were nervous and had no idea what exactly to do with your hands.

“What a disppointment, I wanted you to come to me on all fours and rub against my leg like a cat,” he pouted. It seemed to you now that Jerome desperately wanted to annoy the living hell out of you by speaking as if you were just dirt.

“What is it, J?” you yawned bored, pretending you weren’t giving a shit about his bad jokes.

Jerome pulled you by the waist to him and kissed you rough, not wasting time to push his tongue into your mouth. He refused to give you time to even breathe for a second, focused more onto abusing your mouth. His fingers threaded into your hair and pulled harsh so your head lay more on your back. You were half bended and if he hadn’t his arm around your waist, you would have fallen down.

“I’m leaving you, babydoll,” Jerome whispered on your lips, wearing that sadistic grin you loved till very this moment. 

“W-what…? What do you mean you’re leaving me?” you asked dumbfounded.

“It means what it means, the fun is over,” Jerome continued to smirk, slowly retreating his arm and smirking wider when you instinctively grabbed his shoulders for support so you won’t fall on your butt.

“Jerome…”

“It was so fun fucking you and deceiving you like that. The way you fell for the bad guy… awesome. You’ve always been so ready for everything I had to say, I must say I may not find someone like you ever again but it’s best to end things here,” he grinned, wetting his lips and about to kiss you again.

You, on the other hand, were so angry that without realizing your hand raised in the air and slapped hard Jerome’s face. Your nails bit into his flesh and small drops of blood surfaced. You glared hard at the man in front of you.

“Am I a joke to you?” you hissed, boiling with anger.

“Mhhm, do you really want me to answer that?”

“Jerome!” you yelled at him but he only laughed at you. “You fucking bastard.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” and he bowed down to you, insulting you by doing that.

“Get the fuck out… I don’t want to see your disgusting self again…”

“Oh baby, but it’s not my fault you loved me,” he cooed again. “Look at me, I never loved you and I am not at all heartbroken,” he laughed loud.

“Right… Never loved me, I’m the idiot who fell for you, now fucking get out of my sight!”

“Just so you know, you are a great partner regarding sex.”

“OUT!”

Jerome bowed again and disappeared on the same door he came in oh so many times, his laugh reverberating in now your empty house. You fell on the floor on your knees and cried hard, cried so much and so hard even when your mother passed away you haven’t cried like this. You threw stuff around in pure anger but nothing eased the burning pain you felt  in your chest. You felt so betrayed, so used by him… you were disgusted with yourself. Your skin seemed to burn, to itch, leaving the only thought of you skinning yourself.

“That bastard… that son of a bitch!” you cried loudly, throwing another pillow randomly into your living room.

You sat down by the couch and pulled up your knees to your chest, sobs shaking your body and your nails digging deep into your arms creating small red crescent moons. It took you a full two hours until your cries finally died down and occasionally a sob would be heard. Your eyes were puffy and bloody red, stinging from the earlier crying.     

“I’ll have my revenge on you, Jerome Valeska. Just you wait,” you growled, glaring hard at the door he walked out on. “You’ll come back to me and I won’t even look at you, you filthy mutt. Next time I see you, I’ll make sure you’d be kneeling in front of me in pain.”  


	12. Chapter 12

Days went by rather hard, you expected you wouldn’t be affected so much by his leaving. But here you were, sipping from your drink and looking at the wall. Your eyes went back to the bookcase and saw the burned carpet from the time you set Jake on fire. The dusty ashtray stood on the verge of the shelf, not falling down yet. Memories from that time when your crazy side had been finally set free came back: you cowering everytime in a corner inside your room, being locked from outside; your mother desperately trying to calm Jake but instead only angering him more, resulting in her always being hit and hurt. Your childhood had never been bright nor happy, and when the news of Jerome Valeska spread you picked up an interest in him. In your mind he was some kind of hero, plus he was handsome too. He contributed a lot to developing your psychopath side and now he gave you the final blow.

“How stupid I was… Fell in love with a cold-hearted bastard who cared only to fuck someone,” you talked with yourself. Getting up from the floor you slowly made your way to that hanging ashtray. You watched it staying innocently suspended in the air until you were overwhelmed by a sudden raging madness. You grabbed it tight and threw it across the room, sending the ashtray straight to the other wall and smashing it in hundreds of shards. Light reflected onto the tiny shards, making them sparkle mockingly, as if the action was a sad excuse of taking out your anger on the poor glass object. But Jerome was alive and kicking, maybe even fucking some random chick before slitting her throat open, while the ashtray was broken, pieces of it scattered on the floor.

“Fuck you, Jerome Valeska!” you cried loudly, grabbing the remained intact objects and beginning to ruin the living room again. Curtains were ripped from their place, the bookshelf was now empty as you threw and ripped off pages, tears staining the ruined books. Harsh sobs were rocking your chest, the yelling had your throat sore, tears left your eyes red and puffy. You were positive you looked like a walking disaster but you couldn’t care less.   

Upstairs, the bedsheets in your room were unchanged, Jerome’s scent still faintly lingering there. However it was not in one piece anymore: that day when Jerome had left you, you grabbed a random knife from the kitchen and rushed to your bedroom, digging the knife into the fabric and shredding it. Now it was your pillows’ turn. You went upstairs with a dangerous spark in your eyes and murdered in the most gruesome way the pillows on which you both slept, feathers flying aimlessly and covering most of the floor. Pieces of bedsheets adorned the bed and were still stinking with Jerome’s scent mixed with some alcohol (because you always chose to drink in your room and when you successfully got drunk, liquor would just spill from the bottle onto the sheets; you not once bothered to take them to wash the remnants of what used to be or to throw them in the trash bin). After you wrecked your room, you moved downstairs and there you stayed. Knowing you had sex with Jerome on every surface in the house it was hard to find your place now, but you didn’t have a plan either. So you remained in the house for another days, losing count from the day Jerome came back to life, hell breaking loose thanks to all the lunatics and moved in with you for what seemed years to you.   

Sweat formed on your forehead and some beads were slowly rolling down the sides of your face. It was burning hot this day and your eyes stung from the crying. You went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, but the first thing that stood out was your scar again. Whatever lies Jerome had told you now they vanished, and what remained now was the hideous aspect the scar gave off. The hit you took and the hard impact of your skull with the rock left behind a small hollow space with tiny yet deep lines. You didn’t find in it nothing to be proud of, except for the fact that you survived and maybe gave you a new perspective for your madness. You turned on the faucet and watched the water run with high flow. You placed your hands under the cold water and closed your eyes – for a moment you calmed down, taking a deep breath and forgetting everything. After the short moment you splashed the water on your face and let the drops slowly slide down your skin.    

You breathed deeply, pushing the image of Jerome Valeska somewhere far into the back of your mind and focused on what you wanted to do now. You felt deep into your soul a raging burning fire and a desire to destroy. But the question was how you would do it.

After a glance at your reflection a smirk bloomed on your lips.

You knew what you had to do in order to get the Gotham people know and fear you. Fear you more than Jerome.  

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks had passed, peace still present in the city. Gotham was not restored completely after that certain incident but small progress was ongoing. Well, not for too long anyway.

The GCPD headquarters was on edge. For several days after the slaughter at the theme park ended and  there was quiet in the city, now the police was confronting a maniac on the streets running with over 80 miles per hour, leaving behind a trail of explosions. Main target was the gas stations but the one responsible for the fire didn’t stop at only that: an arsonist who apparently fancied dynamite. The buildings were chosen randomly and they exploded in random places but simultaneously.

“Jim, what’s going on?” Bullock asked perplexed, watching a building which exploded just a few blocks away from the HQ and now the smell of ashes and burned-to-crisp flesh of the unfortunated people was in the air, making Harvey’s stomach twist. “This is no good sign.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely have no idea where this is going now, because I kept losing my first ideas as others came along, but I hope you enjoy this story. Let me know what you think in the comments


	13. Chapter 13

You ran in the city in your stolen car like a madman, ignoring all rules and creating chaos. You left behind you only dust to raise from the ground and cars to crash against each other in a poor attempt to avoid you. Time to time you would roll down your window and take out your gun, shooting aimlessly be it in a car tire or hitting a person. _Oops, sorry_ ,  you would yell out in between laughs as you drove unbothered. Not once it happened for you to hear the sirens from GCPD being on your tail but you managed to lose them every time by turning left and right on the alleys of Gotham City. And now you were back to your new home: a ruin of a mansion that kept its smell of death and gun powder. However, judging by the look of everything being broken and shattered, the walls turned black from the smoke too, you assumed here started a fire and only resulted in an explosion because of this gun powder you smelled.

You shrugged, not giving a damn, walking to your special room where you kept your dynamite. You pushed open the door and smirked at your large boxes that kept safe those slim, dangerous sticks. __My babies__ , you mumbled quietly, grin still on your lips. You’ve spent the past two weeks researching every place that had stashed dynamite and to also develop your plan. You wanted to see this city burn to crisp pull Jerome out of his hideout; since that scene in your living room, the ginger ran away and made himself disappear into thin air. But you knew he was planning something and you were not gonna fall in his trap once again, giving him all the spotlight and just be a random girl falling from the sky and acting as a diversion while he makes his escape, preaching all sweet stuff to you only to twist your mind more and more, to confuse you and make you forget your hate towards him.

Yet your conscience spoke from somewhere far away: “ ** **Yet you still love that Jerome Valeska boy.**** ”

“Who the fuck loves that Valeska bitch?” you spat in a venomous voice to no one. “If I see that guy, and sureas hell  I will indeed see him, I’ll wipe the floor with him.”

****Why do you deny your feelings?** ** __

“Shut up…” you murmured, glaring at nothing. You closed the door to your dynamite room and exited, heading to the bathroom to wash your face with cold water in hopes that will make you come to your senses.

****Despite what has happened, you still want him. You want his arms around you, you want his lips on your skin -** **

The voice in your head stopped talking the moment you raised your eyes full of anger and smashed your fist into the mirror, shards sticking inside your bleeding hand. Your broken reflection stared right back at you, the same fury returning to you.

“Who the hell misses that bastard who randomly leaves me?” you hissed, tears threatening to spill out from your eyes. “Who does he think he is to make me suffer like this?! Who the hell is he to play with my mind and feelings like this?”

****The crazy ones do not have a heart, that is what makes them what they are. Get over yourself!** **

“Get lost…!”

****Doll, what’s wrong? You still don’t understand why I did that? Tsk tsk, too bad, baby, use your brains and figure it out. And if you can’t do that… then too bad, you deserved it!** **

“Jerome!” you spun around, picking up a big shard from the shattered mirror, ready to slit his face more than it already was. But there was no one besides you. “Get out you coward and face me!”

You continued to yell at nobody, holding up the glass that only dug deeper into your palm and made blood run down your hand - blood was running down your arm while tears ran down your cheeks. Even when he was not around, he still managed to hurt you.

You fell on your knees, throwing away the shard and stared at your bleeding palm. You felt nothing, not even pain, just anger. You were so angry at so many things and now your conscience played with your already messy mind too. Were you losing your grip of your world? If Jerome could see you right now, on the floor and wiping your tears with bloodied hands, would he laugh at you? __Sure as hell, he would even call me pathetic__ , you thought bitterly as you picked yourself up.

You sighed loudly, taking a deep breath then chuckling. You’ve gotten used to all these sudden changes in mood, from laughing to crying or destroying everything. While you dragged your feet to the sofa in the middle of the big dining room, you recalled all the things that had happened in your life. You turned on the TV and watched with a bored expression all the commercials that were playing, them being a noise in the background as memories unfolded in front of you. Not so long ago you would sit just like this in your old house with your mother and Perfect Jake, suppressing the tiny smile when Jerome made his broadcast after the slaughter at GCPD with that broken nose. Then you were sent with a kick in your butt upstairs only for Jake to either rape your poor mother or scream obscenities at her, beating her with his belt or other ungodly methods he had. And you saw everything and the rage kept inside your chest began to eat at your being; you remembered you had an imaginary friend too, someone who resembled Jerome Valeska a lot and whenever you were locked in your room and Jake was busy destroying his wife’s live, this little guy would keep you company and answer your questions quietly.

You sighed again, rubbing your eyes more as another memory came in, making the previous to vanish like smoke. It was about all the bullying you endured at school, how the other kids called you a freak and all sorts of things. And maybe you wouldn’t have pushed that boy in the pool and make him drown, but he asked for it and it was what he deserved for he was the one who every time initialized the beatings and sent you home full from head to toes in bruises and with missing hair strands. You were not sorry in the least, not even now. And the police stated that the floor was too wet and everyone could have slipped, the teacher being charged for not supervising the children near the pool. And this way you were out of this situation all clean; yet, from that point on all kids avoided you as if you had plague, knowing you were the one who pushed poor guy into the pool.

A sudden alarmed voice of a female reporter cut into the trail of your thoughts and pulled you back to the present. They were recording near the building that had exploded not too long ago, firemen trying to save whoever was captive under the ruins and also extinguish the fire. You grinned, now your attention being focused on the news.

“Detective Jim Gordon warns us about an arsonist who roams around in the city and be careful,” the reporter informed. “We have him here to make a statement.”

“We don’t know exactly who that arsonist might be, yet I have an idea. However I cannot make anything public and falsely alarm the citizen. The GCPD will do its best to catch him.”

“Oh, so I’m finally getting known by the city?” you hummed, grinning.

“Is this criminal a threat to our city, detective Gordon?” the reporter asked more.

Jim sighed. “Actually… I don’t know exactly what to say. It’s a threat, of course, people died in these explosions but comparing him to Jerome Valeska or other more notorious criminals, no, I wouldn’t place him in this top.”

This answer didn’t seem to be the right one because the reporter barely restrained herself from grimacing, but Jim had nothing else to say, it was the truth though. You weren’t that much of a threat.

“I am not a threat to your safety?” you mumbled. “I can’t be placed in that stupid top of yours, detective? Remember that night and you wouldn’t say the same thing twice,” you growled, bawling your hands into fists. “And I’ll be damned if I’m below that redhead! You want a show? I’ll give you one.”

The statement Jim Gordon just made had your blood boiling and as much as you wanted to rush out and teach him a lesson to pick his words wisely next time, now you had to think things over and make a good plan that won’t get you straight to Arkham.

“Detective, one more question. Any leads on Jerome Valeska?” the reported asked.

“Not yet, we’re working on it. Apparently he’s hidden somewhere so if anyone has even the tiniest assumption where he could be, give us a call.”

You hated to admit, but you had to stay low for a bit - well, at least to the point you had a proper plan that would result in Gotham turned into a big ashtray.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in an abandoned building hid Jerome Valeska and his lackeys. And just as you, he watched the news and heard Gordon’s statements. Jerome couldn’t contain his laughter.

“This is so damn good!” he laughed more while the rest stayed expressionless. “I bet she is dying to take my place. But of course that won’t happen, right guys?” Jerome asked the crowd, earning loud cheerings for him.

He licked his lips, he couldn’t deny the fact he was curious to see just how much the breakup affected you.

“Jimbo plays with fire, guys, I’m telling you. He will regret he made his opinion public,” Jerome chuckled darkly.

“What do you plan to do?” someone asked.

“Plan? I don’t have such thing. Plans are for the ones who can’t act spontaneously,” Jerome answered as a matter of fact, shrugging. “But I do intend on watching what my little baby doll will do.”

 

  

 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was about to give up on this story despite having lots of ideas and apparently plot twists that I myself don't anticipate. I'll be waiting for your thoughts in the comment section about what you want to happen next, as well as what you think of the story itself. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading this story~


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